After the Smoke Clears
by Peacockgirl
Summary: SEQUEL TO PHOENIX RISING. The Infinity War has been won and Thanos defeated, but Peter still remembers those months that now never were. He just wishes he wasn't the only one. Everyone may have lived, but Peter still lost a father. Or has he? IronDad and SpiderSon.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a direct sequel to my fic** _ **Phoenix Rising**_ **, so I recommend you check that out before proceeding.**

* * *

The Iron Spider dissolved in a cloud of ash.

Peter tucked into a roll as he crashed into the ground. The alien landscape disappeared around him. "Karen, I've lost visuals. Can you get me back online?"

"Negative, Peter. The cameras were destroyed with the suit."

He'd never been so bummed by a game over. "Ah man," he groaned, retracting his mask. "Tony's gonna be so mad."

"My drones were worth three times his suit." Shuri stepped into her lab from where she'd been observing beyond the simulation. "That was impressive. Until you got obliterated."

Shuri never pulled any punches. Even after spending the past week together Peter still wasn't used to her bluntness. "I had to take the chance. Thanos was going after Scott."

The plan had been going surprisingly well. Nebula had a list of substances Thanos had encountered on his many conquests that weakened him, and Bruce had synthesized them into a formula meant to slow him down, even with all the infinity stones. They'd had three delivery methods – a poisoned arrow, a syringe, and an aerosol spray.

Clint had made the shot, distracting Thanos long enough for Scott to grow and jab the syringe into his leg. But the double dose hadn't kicked in as quickly as they'd calculated. Peter had felt Thanos go for Ant Man before the Titan even looked down, and he knew he couldn't wait. He'd swung in just like he practiced, pushed Scott out of the way and sprayed Thanos right in his ugly face.

But there hadn't been time to get out of range of the gauntlet's blast.

"It's a good thing you weren't actually there. Though it would have been a warrior's death."

A chill went up Peter's spine as he wondered whether it would have been quick this time. He thought so, the way the suit had vaporized, but the suit didn't have his healing powers.

He'd never been so glad for Tony's paranoia.

It had been their biggest fight since the Vulture. The Avengers were in the final stages of planning their last stand, and Peter had come up with a well-reasoned argument why he should go with them.

"Absolutely not," Tony had said before Peter had gotten through his first sentence. "This mission is for big boys only. You're benched."

Tony was never this dismissive with him anymore. It hurt, more than Flash's barbs or the weight of a shattered parking garage on his chest. But the knowledge that it was also unjustified made him lash back. "We were supposed to talk about that once we found the stadium. I made up my mind. I don't want to be benched."

"You don't get to make that decision. I'm sure your aunt would agree with me that the home planet of the alien asshole who wiped out half of all existence is no place for a child. Should we go ask her?"

Peter had crossed him arms and ignored the burning behind his eyes. "I'm not a child."

"Like hell you're not."

Peter had forgotten that he could be this mad at Tony. "I stopped being a child the day I watched my uncle bleed out. Or maybe it was the day I decided that stopping the bad guys was more important than getting straight As and playing videogames. Or when I followed you into space because Earth was in danger and you needed backup. Whichever it was, it was a long time ago. I can do this."

"But I can't." Suddenly Tony wasn't yelling, and that was worse. Because Peter hated when Tony was hard on himself. Hated it even more than when Tony was hard on him. "Damn it, Pete. I cannot take you back to that hellscape and watch you die again. I still have nightmares about the first time, and I had no clue then how much I love you. If you come with us I'll be in a full blown panic every second, and that'll be no help to the team. So you've gotta sit this one out."

Suddenly the yelling and deflection all made sense. Peter would normally do anything to calm Tony down, but he couldn't give in this time. "I can't, because I'm not sure you'll come back if I'm not there to make you," he whispered.

Peter could feel the way that Tony froze before the lie built on the tip of his tongue. "I'll come back."

"Will you, really? Even if you're the one who has to finish it – like Doctor Strange saw? What if it's a sacrificial blow?"

This time Tony didn't lie. "Then I'll do whatever it takes to give my son a world he can grow up in."

Peter choked back a sob, wrapping his arms around himself. Tony had said as much too many times for Peter not to read between the lines. Doctor Strange had said he'd sacrifice either of them for the Time Stone. He'd saved Tony because he'd saw he was needed for that one in millions scenario where they won. But that didn't mean he walked away from that scenario.

Peter knew time needed to be reversed. Tony hadn't done quite as thorough a job keeping him in the dark as he thought, but any real news made Peter so sick that he tried to forget. The Avengers all had their miseries, but they were safe inside the Compound walls. That safety came at the expense of billions, and their isolation was only morally justified if all that suffering could be erased. They had debated this, and agreed. But something had changed in Peter since that day. "What if I would trade that world for you?"

He felt sick even saying it, but he'd agonized the point so often that he knew it was true. Tony might think less of him, but it couldn't be helped. He could deal with Tony's disappointment, but not his death.

Maybe that's why most heroes were alone. Because it was easier to choose the world if you had nothing you loved more.

Peter knew plenty about loss – and love. He thought he'd sorted his priorities after Ben. He would not let fear make him turn a blind eye. He would not let failure stop him from trying again.

He would not let another father die in front him.

"I know that's awful. Maybe I'm not good enough to be an Avenger. But I can't lose you. And if I'm there you'll come home."

All the anger had drained from the man, leaving him pale and earnest. In that moment he wasn't Iron Man or Tony Stark.

Just Dad.

"Not if anything happens to you, I won't."

They had collapsed towards each other, overcome by love so fierce it turned to misery, neither willing to give in.

It was Shuri who found a solution.

The Iron Spider would go into battle. But Peter would be safe and sound, far away.

Tony pouted that his suits had been unmanned for years, trying to weasel some credit for the idea. But Spiderman reacted to his surroundings with a finesse that could not be achieved by remote control or voice activated commands. It was his ability to get close and get out of there that made him valuable to the mission.

Controlling the suit from afar was easy. Shuri already had tech for that, although the distance between Earth and Titan required a few modifications.

Replicating the battle environment was the true challenge. Spiderman was handicapped on the ground. He needed something to swoop and swing from, and Peter couldn't mimic any of that without the same something. So Shuri built drones that continuously analyzed their surroundings and vibranium laced nanobots that recreated them, and used Wong's knowledge of the time stone to feed off its energy to convey the information across light years with only a second of lag.

Peter had spent nearly every second since being dropped off in Wakanda practicing in the second suit Tony had built him. By the time the Avengers' spaceship reached Titan he had grown accustomed to the world's most lifelike – and expensive – virtual reality.

But his friends were all there in person and he didn't like not knowing what was going on.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y," he called out to the AI that he knew was hiding as backdoor reconnaissance in his suit in case Karen wouldn't rat him out to Tony. "I can't see what's going on. Can you show us?"

"Roger that, Young Boss." Peter smiled at the nickname, which had taken effect a few days after Tony had admitted his feelings. The blank wall in front of him flickered into an alien landscape, but no trees rose up around him with Shuri's nanobots disabled. Nebula's knowledge of Thanos's home planet had been crucial, and they'd lured him into the forest at the edge of the farm where he'd retreated to live out his retirement.

Tony's voice boomed through the room, but because the visuals were from Iron Man's helmet Peter couldn't see him. "Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck."

He'd never heard Tony sound so angry, but it was better than devastation.

"He wasn't there, Tones," Rhodey said, pragmatic as ever. "The kid's back in Africa. But he'll be pissed if you mess this up because you forgot that. Our window of opportunity's closing."

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell Tony I'm okay," Peter commanded.

"No can do. Boss requires minimal distractions."

"I'm not a distraction!"

Shuri rested her hand on his shoulder. Peter was so worked up he hadn't even heard her get close. He flinched and her grip tightened. "Perhaps he needs the anger your loss would provoke. Is not that need in the very name they've given themselves?"

She was looking at this all so rationally, but he could barely think straight through all the emotion coursing through him—panic and love and that familiar need to protect. "Losing me is his greatest fear. I can't let him think that I'm dead!"

"He knows if he succeeds the loss will be temporary." When they'd first met it had been obvious Shuri was close to his age, an obvious ally in the world of grown-ups. In three months she'd been matured by grief, thrust into some ageless adulthood like Natasha, while he remained a child. Something in her tone reminded him that while he had gained family after Thanos's snap she had lost hers.

It was easier to be selfless when he saw those helped by his sacrifice. He couldn't stand to see Tony in pain, but they'd both survive, and he would bear it for the greater good. "I can't wait to meet your brother," Peter answered, conceding.

Shuri's smile was tight, but something bright sparkled beneath it. "He will like you. If only for the vain notion that you would keep me out of trouble."

"Distracted, maybe?" Peter tried to grin, but he was too anxious to sustain the levity. He turned back to the projection, where Tony was barreling towards Thanos. The monster was not quite immobilized, but its reactions were sluggish. The Avengers had circled around him, tightening the noose.

He was so focused on Nebula holding Thor's ax that he saw Iron Man too late. Even as Tony hovered above him he showed no fear. "The universe may have spared you once. It is unlikely to do so again."

"You think there's only one way to skin a cat, Scrot Face?" Tony spat, a wicked blade suddenly protruding from his right glove. A blade with nearly identical properties to Thor's ax, which much to the Asgardian's dismay had been forged in a laboratory and not on a dying star.

"This is for my son, you Purple Bastard." The blade flashed like lightening, severing Thanos's arm right below his elbow. The gauntlet fell to the ground with the weight of eternity.

Peter held his breath and watched arrogance fade to panic.

"And this is for your daughters." Iron Man raised the blade again, his voice teeming with a venomous rage cold enough to freeze mercury. "You never deserved to call them that."

This time the blade buried itself in Thanos's neck. It stopped halfway, thick red blood spraying from the wound. The titan gurgled and died, the executioner of the universe fading from existence as quickly as those he had taken.

Tony's third blow cleaved his head from his shoulders.

The fourth was buried in his heart.

Peter lost count after that. He could feel Tony's anger across the inconceivable distance as if they were in the same room, every hair on Peter's body ramrod straight. Shuri was at his side, one arm snaked around his waist as he leaned into her, trying to keep standing despite the suffocating collapse in his chest.

"Tell him I'm okay, please," he begged, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn't answer. Perhaps he hadn't articulated at all. Couldn't the AI hear the keening in his soul?

He did not want to see Thanos become a pile of mangled gore – blood made him squeamish, ever since Ben – but it felt like penance, when love and loss of him had driven Tony to this state.

Then the other Avengers were there, shouting at Tony to calm down, and there was too much stimuli. Unable to watch any longer, Peter closed his eyes as Tony reached for the gauntlet.

Peter felt himself pitch forward as if he'd started to doze sitting up, and opened his eyes on a crowded bus.

"Dude, are you falling asleep in the middle of my story? Did you have a late night? Was it," Ned pitched his voice low, " _spider stuff?"_

"Keep it down," Peter whispered, instinctively scanning his surroundings to check if anyone had heard Ned's blunder. Reality hit him a second later, the intensity of Tony's despair replaced with a soaring euphoria not unlike webbing across the city. "Oh my god, Ned," he cried, tackling his best friend in a bear hug. He was solid and squirming beneath Peter's grasp. Three dozen of Peter's classmates bustled around them, louder then even the rowdiest of the Avenger's war councils, leaving all of Peter's senses reeling. But he'd never been so glad to see the people who'd mostly ignored him. "You're back!"

"Where did I go?" Ned asked. "You musta had some dream. Not that I mind, but people are staring."

That got Peter to pull back, but the only one paying them more than a passing glance was Michelle, who was watching them closely, though her expression was bored as ever. Peter turned back to Ned and resisted the urge to tackle him again. "This is gonna seem like a weird question, but where are we?"

Ned hesitated. "Dude, are you all right? Did you hit your head or something last night? Do you need medical attention?"

"Or something," Peter muttered. "I'm okay. Just remind me where we're going."

"Field trip. Museum of Modern Art, remember."

It all came flooding back, though it had seemed so long ago. "What's the date?"

"April 25, 2018."

Peter grinned, laughter bubbling inside him. "He did it. He actually went back."

"Who went where?"

Peter peered out the window, but this time there was no spaceship hovering over New York. His spider senses were dormant; there was no danger here, just his loud and smelly classmates, going about their lives. All one hundred percent of them.

He turned back to Ned, studying him closely. There was no sign of trauma. "Do you remember anything…" Peter paused, growing quieter. "That happens next?"

"Like when we take you to the hospital because you're off your rocker?"

Peter snorted. Oh how he'd missed Ned. "I'm serious." But he didn't sound serious even to himself. "Think, real hard. Are you sure you don't know how this day ends? Like, you probably never went to the museum because of the aliens, and after I jumped out of the window I was missing, so May probably tried to call you." Peter tried to work out the timeline in his mind, because this wasn't the moment of the snap, this was sometime before. But he didn't know how long they'd been in space, before or after they'd rescued Doctor Strange. And there was a chance that time elapsed differently there, like in the movies.

"What are you rambling about?"

Ned's eyes were so wide, and Peter was struck by just how crazy his life had become over the past few months. It was going to make quite the story. "I'll tell you everything. I just can't tell you here."

"You can't leave me hanging like that."

"It'll be worth the wait, I promise."

Peter pulled out his phone to send Tony a victory snap, his arm around Ned and his thumb in the air, but Tony's handle didn't show up in his friends list. Peter switched to text, but Tony wasn't in his contacts either. He scrolled through his messages in vain, but gone were the geeky science puns, the serious engineering discussions, and the conversations entirely in Avengers memes.

Gone were the past three months.

Gone was the part where Tony had become his father.

"Shit," Peter mumbled, scrolling through unremarkable photos. Every shred of evidence that he knew the Avengers personally was gone. A black hole opened in his chest, sucking up the happiness he had felt, leaving him cold and empty.

"What's wrong?" Ned asked. Peter reminded himself that this was the victory. Ned was back. Everyone was back.

"I wanted to text Tony – Mr. Stark. But his number's not in my phone anymore." Peter scoured his memory, trying to recall if he'd ever actually looked at the number. But it had always just _been there_ , ever since Tony grabbed the fancy tablet Shuri had given Peter and added himself to its contacts, muttering all the while about foreign tech and cheeky princesses.

Tony's number had never been in _this phone_.

"I don't know what it is," Peter said despairingly, the black hole pulling him closer, like the force that had pulled Squidward right out of the flying donut.

"That's the problem of our generation, man," Ned said sagely. "What about that cheerful guy Mr. Stark had keeping tabs on you?"

The reminder that Happy was alive again helped Peter brace himself, like brand new metal spider legs finding purchase. But Happy had no idea Tony now gave Peter the time of day. He certainly wouldn't give Peter Tony's number, and any message might take quite a long time to reach Tony, if it was ever passed on at all.

"Yeah. I'll, uh, try him after the field trip."

Peter stared at the phone, willing Tony to be the one to reach out first. Even if Tony didn't have his number handy, F.R.I.D.A.Y. could get it for him in a flash. Surely Tony would want to check in. Make sure Peter was okay. Gloat, a bit.

The phone didn't vibrate. There were no notifications.

Peter dropped it into his bag with a huff and scanned his classmates again, searching for strange behavior. It made sense that those who had disappeared had no memory of the lost time. But roughly half of those around him should have lived.

His eyes lit on Michelle, bent over her sketchbook.

The only person he was certain had survived.

He'd gotten her texts a few weeks after the cataclysm, when Tony finally hacked his missing phone and transferred all his data to the one Shuri gave him. It was uncharacteristically vulnerable for her to ask if he was alive, so he'd begged Tony to take him back to the city.

They'd met in a sketchy abandoned coffeeshop at the edge of Queens. She moved about like she owned the place, instilling in Peter an uncomfortable suspicion that she lived there. But she wouldn't confirm that. Wouldn't come back to the Compound with him either, scoffing at his offer of food and safety. She'd reprimanded him for sitting back as the world burned. That guilt had gnawed at him for a long time, despite Tony's assurances.

She'd also known he was Spiderman.

"Hey MJ," he said, before he could think it through enough to decide it was a bad idea.

She looked up at him. Her face was less sallow, her eyes less haunted. But her expression was just as unreadable.

"Have you ever been to Ray's Coffeehouse?" he asked.

"Are you asking me on a date, weirdo?"

"What? No!" he sputtered, because his mind hadn't gone there at all. Beside him, Ned made a noise somewhere between a cough and a choke. "I was just wondering if you'd ever been there. I was thinking about checking it out. Just wanted to know if it's any good."

"You don't drink coffee, loser."

"Right." It wasn't an answer. Michelle was definitely looking at him strangely now, but he couldn't tell if that was because he was rambling like a fool or because she felt some itch of recognition. Perhaps the memories of the months that never were weren't lost, just buried, waiting to be trigged and assimilated.

Or perhaps he was the only one who retained them, his enhanced mind holding on to the memories the way his cells had fought to retain cohesion.

Whichever it was, MJ wouldn't tell, even if she could. Certainly not here, where anyone could overhear. For all she pretended not to care what others thought, she was far more cautious than he was.

There was also the fact that she'd known he was Spiderman. If she'd figured it out then, she was surely close to figuring it out now, if she hadn't already. But that was a problem for another day.

Peter slumped back into his seat, wishing he could actually disappear. Would it be too conspicuous if he jumped out of the window now?

"Dude, what was that?" Ned asked. "You're seriously freaking me out here. First you're talking about things that never happened, and then you asked out MJ."

"I did not ask out MJ!" Peter hissed. "I'll tell you everything but I can't do it here. Right now I need my guy in the chair. Can you help me?"

All it took was the mention of Ned's nickname to get him to focus, and Peter quickly explained that he needed to know if there was anything posted on the web about aliens or déjà vu. Karen could have told him within minutes, if he still had the watch Tony had given him with her programmed into the interface. But that was gone with the group text May had started, filled with grocery lists and meal reminders sent to all of Earth's mightiest heroes. Ned was the next best thing, because he was already familiar with all the best conspiracy blogs and message boards, and he set up Stark Alerts so Peter would be notified immediately if anything new was posted.

Ned spent the rest of the bus ride investigating, but could find no sign that anyone else remembered. By the time they pulled up to MoMA Peter had decided it was karma. Some selfish, depraved part of him had been willing to let the whole world suffer just so he could hold on to a father who wasn't even technically his. It was only fair that once the world was restored that father would be the only thing lost.

At least Tony was alive. Peter had done that search himself, worried that wielding the Infinity Stones had come with some sacrificial caveat—that maybe he had wiped himself out of existence. But Tony had been spotted that morning jogging in Central Park with his assistant turned fiancé Virginia "Pepper" Potts.

Just living his normal, billionaire, childless life.

Peter knew Ned was dying for some intel. He kept looking at Peter with wide eyes whenever their classmates got just a few feet in front of them. But Peter kept his mouth shut for the entire guided tour, watching strangers instead of artwork, searching for any sign they recognized that something about today was unusual. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

It was only once they were given free rein to select their favorite piece of artwork and write about it that Peter pulled Ned into an alcove and gave him a very cursory review of the past few months.

"So let me get this straight," Ned summarized. "You leapt out of the bus, fought aliens with Iron Man, stowed away on a spaceship, got your asses handed to you by some big purple guy, and then spent three months living with the Avengers plotting how to defeat him and then go back in time to bring back the half of the universe he made disappear. And the plan actually worked."

"Yeah." Peter blew out a breath. "Basically."

"That is the coolest story I have ever heard! You lived with the Avengers! They must be like your besties now. I know we swore to be best friends forever, but if I was replaced by Captain America I would not even be upset."

"You're still my best friend, Ned," Peter said, his enthusiasm raising his spirits slightly and reminding Peter exactly why that was the case. "And they don't even remember our time together, so even though we were friends before, we're not now."

"But you were friends. With the Avengers."

"Yeah." Peter managed a smirk. "May even ordered them around a bit."

"Your aunt is the coolest surrogate parent EVER!"

"Not sure Ant-Man thinks so."

"Ant-Man was there too? I didn't know he was an Avenger. You know more about them than the blogs!"

But Ned's cheer only buoyed him for so long, especially when they had to stop whispering and focus on their assignment. Peter had always found art a bit boring, but today it was too much. He read loss in every brush stroke. Loneliness in every photograph. Violence in color. There were too many people around, and none of them knew what he'd gone through. He felt the anxiety build in his chest like thunder, noises too loud and light too bright.

Tony had been surprisingly good at dealing with these episodes – sometimes by distracting him and other times by helping him count out breaths or grounding him with a hand to his shoulder.

"Pepper knows that I've had panic attacks ever since Afghanistan," he'd admitted once. "But I used to get them before too."

That shouldn't have made him feel any better, but it did.

But Tony wasn't here. It was only sheer force of will that kept Peter from melting down in front of his classmates, but by the time he climbed on to the bus he was absolutely exhausted.

He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, focusing on the vibrations flowing through the cool glass. He was being stupid. He may have lost another father today, but there would be no funeral, no wondering where he'd end up or whether Aunt May could hold it together. He'd go back to his apartment and life would be exactly as it was three months ago – fine. And because for those three months he'd had a dad who was brilliant and tireless and brave, all around the world people would go home to their families with no memory of the loss and suffering they'd endured. Clint had his wife and kids back and Shuri had her mom and brother and Steve had Bucky.

And Tony was still alive. So Peter couldn't give up. Because crazy as it was, Tony needed him, just as desperately as Peter needed Tony. He just didn't know it yet.

Peter had been so sure at first that it was guilt – just _if anything happens to you I feel like that would be on me._ That's why he'd apologized with what he thought was his last breath, realizing too late his _so it's kind of your fault I'm here_ joke had been in poor taste. But when _I'm sorry_ had done nothing to dispel the panic on Mister Stark's face he'd had to pull himself together and just keep living.

Once the literal and proverbial dust had settled he'd expected Mister Stark to distance himself. He'd never imagined he'd become Tony and then Dad in rapid succession, complete with confessions and hugs and an aching loneliness which Peter had found all too familiar. As much as he'd wanted to be Iron Man as a kid he'd never expected him and Tony Stark to have anything in common.

He'd been downright clingy, honestly, but Peter hadn't minded. He'd needed an anchor to keep him steady through everything that was happening, and Tony freakin' Stark was the best he could have asked for. What had started out as a nightmare had become an amazing, impossible dream.

Peter had been good for Tony. He'd said so himself more than once. So had Pepper. So had every one of the Avengers each time they caught Tony acting paternal, an earnest appreciation underneath the teasing. As time had passed he'd grown closer to the team, moving past the fallout of Germany. They'd become a family again, just like their glory days.

That may have been gone, forgotten, but Peter wasn't. He wouldn't let Tony be alone again. He'd just have to find a less traumatic way than nearly dying in his arms to brings all those needs and feelings to the surface.

Honestly that seemed harder than going back in time. Things were going to get even more awkward than MJ thinking he was asking her out. But he knew Tony now. Knew the insecurities he tried to hide from the world. Knew how desperately he wanted to prove to himself that he was nothing like his father. Knew that he liked to blast ACDC in his lab and ate sugary cereal because his parents never let him. The trick would be getting close enough to use all his knowledge without seeming like a total creep.

Tomorrow he'd start figuring out how to do that. Tonight he just wanted to crawl back home and—

"Dude."

"Leave me alone, Ned," he grumbled. He owed Ned so many explanations but he wasn't up for them today.

Ned slapped his shoulder with the back of his hand. "Stop moping. It's Iron Man!"

That got Peter to open his eyes, all the breath leaving his lungs in a rush. They were back at the school, about to pull up at the front, and there, hovering beside the entrance, was Iron Man.

* * *

 **First off, thank you to everyone who reviewed** _ **Phoenix Rising**_ **. You guys are the absolute best, and every review made my day!**

 **I hope you enjoy this little sequel. Sorry this took so long. Real life, you know. I never meant to end this chapter here, but it was getting massive, so I split it into two parts. The good news is the next part is about 75% done, so it shouldn't take too long to post. And you'll now get 3 chapters instead of 2.**

 **And if you enjoyed my little attempt to pretend Infinity War part 2 won't be devasting, please leave me a review and tell me what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

Peter could suddenly hear the chatter all around him, from awed exclamations to the click of camera phones and a frenetic flurry of texts being sent. The driver swore under his breath and no one else noticed. Peter launched himself out of his seat and ran, not caring if he was going too fast, pushing through the door and stumbling outside before the bus came to a complete stop.

He'd fought beside Iron Man and helped rebuild the suit, but there was still something about standing before Iron Man as a civilian that filled him with giddy awe and made him feel six years old again.

"You weren't in school," Iron Man said, the suit making his voice harsh and metallic.

Peter's heart hammered in his chest. "I was on a field trip. To MoMA."

It was as if the man hadn't heard him. "I came all the way from Central Park and you weren't here."

"I stayed on the bus. Just like you wanted me to." He'd known Tony was alive, but it was still reassuring to have proof. There was something off-kilter in his words, and it made Peter bold. "Tony."

The facemask retracted, and Tony started him down. "Why did you call me that?"

Peter took a deep breath, knowing this might be the first of so many awkward moments. "Because you've only asked me to like a dozen times." And then, because he thought he saw the same hope flash across Tony's face that he felt skittering in his veins, he added, "Dad."

"Oh thank God." Then Iron Man was stepping towards him and Peter launched into his arms, metal giving way to fabric and flesh until it was just his father who held him. Peter buried his face in the crook of Tony's neck, the tears he'd been holding back all day burning close to the surface.

"I thought you'd forgot," Peter whispered. "Everyone else did."

"I thought _you'd_ forgot." Tony chuckled, and squeezed him a little tighter. "What a pair we make."

"I didn't want to lose another father," Peter whispered, the truth too raw to be contained.

"You didn't. And you won't," Tony swore, vehement, his hand rising to card through Peter's hair. "I'm right here, son."

Peter inhaled sharply then let it out slowly, trying to exhale all his misery with the breath. Tony's heartbeat soothed him just as it had ever since Wakanda, steady and strong like a promise.

Finally, finally, he was able to feel the joy in their victory. "You did it, Dad. You saved everyone."

"We saved everyone. It was a team effort."

"I can't believe you never told me Iron Man was your father. That is SO COOL! But if this is supposed to be a secret you should cut this out, because you're kinda making a scene."

Peter spun towards the sound of Ned's whisper-yell. Ned's eyes were wide. Both Peter's backpack and his own were dropped at his feet. All around them dozens of students and even a few teachers were staring, reminding Peter that he wasn't at the Compound anymore. In the real word Peter Parker had no reason to be quite so touchy feely with his notoriously aloof mentor – not that his classmates even believed that was a thing.

"Oh geez," Peter swore, wishing that he'd been bitten by a magic teleporting spider. "How am I going to explain this?"

Tony snorted, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him into his side. "Relax, kid. If I throw enough money at them they'll all stay quiet."

"What? I go to school with these people. You can't just pay them off! They're all like fifteen."

"Even better. Shouldn't take as much. What's the going rate for allowances now a days?"

"You're not serious, are you?"

Tony cocked his head. "Not appropriate, huh? Well then, no of course not. We'll just lie, convincingly. It was an…err…intern emergency."

"Or you could just come out as Tony Stark's secret lovechild," Ned suggested.

"What? No!" Peter sputtered. Beside him Tony cackled.

"I mean it's not that surprising with his past and everything. I'm just hurt you never told me. Unless you found out in the months that never were."

Peter could feel himself blushing. "It's not like that. He's not my real father. Biologically. It's kind of – complicated."

"I like this kid. Ned, I presume? The infamous 'Guy in the Chair?'"

"Wow. Iron Man knows my name."

"When I'm not in the suit I go by Tony, actually. And alas, this dear, adorable, sputtering child beside me is not biologically mine—I checked—but we've got this cool super-dad, super-son thing going on. It's new. We're working on it."

Tony's charm was in full effect, and Peter couldn't help but grin. It took a few seconds for a particular detail to sink in.

"Wait, what. You checked?"

Tony winked. "Yeah. Borrowed your toothbrush. Had to shut Barton up because he kept insisting there was something I wasn't telling everyone. And seventeen years ago was a pretty crazy time for me. But no. No extra skeletons in your closet. Any similarities are just learned behavior and not genetics, which I kind of love honestly but maybe you should be a little concerned."

"I cannot believe I am witnessing all this." Peter wasn't entirely sure they hadn't broken Ned. At this rate he might be uttering some iteration of that phrase repeatedly for the rest of his life.

"Chair Guy's right. We've got a lot to catch up on and this is not the best place for it. You hungry? Cause I'm starved. I've been standing outside some high school all day, fretting, and we didn't exactly take any gourmet delicacies on the Quinjet. I could really go for some shawarma right now."

"Shawarma?"

"It's Middle Eastern. You ever have it? It's delicious."

Peter knew what shawarma was, and he knew what it meant. "Isn't that kind of an Avengers thing?"

"Yep," Tony said, popping the p. "An Avengers just saved the world so now we're starving and somehow Iron Man is always the one to pay thing. Seems to apply."

"But the others…" Peter took a moment to think of all the people he'd spent the past few months with. None of them were quite as close as Tony, but they'd all been nothing but kind and welcoming, even though he was young and untrained and way out of their league. Maybe he was overstepping, but they'd felt like family. The biggest, most bad-ass, bat shit crazy family any poor kid from Queens could possibly imagine. And now they were scattered across the world, most of them on the run or under house arrest. Maybe they didn't remember him, or the fences Tony had so painstakingly mended.

Maybe they did, but they still couldn't come home.

Peter didn't know which was worse.

"I'll figure it out," Tony assured. "But dinner first? I count two Avengers, so we won't break with tradition."

Peter's heart swelled at being called an Avenger, and it chased away the melancholy. "Absolutely."

"I hate to bring this up, but we have decathlon practice today," Ned said. "MJ will kill you if you don't show up. She'll probably think you're embarrassed because she turned you down."

"Shoot, I forgot."

"MJ, sounds familiar. Is that the girl you met up with at that coffeeshop?" Tony asked.

"Peter asked her out today. She turned him down," Ned said, shaking his head sagely.

Peter buried his head in his hands, sensing Tony's teasing before it came. "Oh my gosh, Ned. I did not ask out MJ. I was trying to figuring out if she remember that we met up during the time that didn't happen now."

"So you've already been on a date with her? Which she may not remember. Or if she does remember, it went so badly she doesn't want to date you again? That's cold."

"No! Ned! Argh!"

Tony laughed, louder and more carefree than Peter had ever heard, and he wanted to burrow in the ground. "I change my mind. I can't go to dinner. I'm just going to stay here and die."

"Oh Underoos, I have so much to teach you about girls."

"You said you weren't going to do that!"

"I reserve the right to change my mind. Rejection's a natural part of life. Not that I have much experience with it, naturally. But there's always a next time. That girl seemed a bit angry for you, honestly."

"Oh my gosh. If I go with you will you stop talking?"

"It's unlikely." Tony clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder, which convinced Peter he wasn't doing an adequate job at hiding. He looked up sheepishly. There was something so absolutely joyous about the look on Tony's face that some of his mortification faded.

Peter brushed him off, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "Ned, can you cover for me? I'll owe you one, big time!"

"I'll owe you one," Tony offered.

"Iron Man is going to owe me a favor. Wow!"

"Tony Stark will owe you a favor," Peter corrected. "That's even better."

A strange look crossed Tony's face, but he was running his mouth again before Peter could decide what it meant. "All right, let's blow this popsicle stand. Are you sure I don't have to write any checks?"

"I've got this Mr. Iron – Stark. I'll run damage control and provide a full list of anyone who might need to be silenced."

Peter rolled his eyes but Tony smirked at Ned and offered a two fingered salute. "Good man."

Tony pulled a pair of sunglasses out of the pocket of his jogging suit and handed them to Peter. There were still crowds watching them and it seemed too little, too late, but he put them on anyway, making a face when the world suddenly took on an orange tint.

"Don't these make you look more conspicuous?" he asked.

"Maybe. But at least I look cool as I'm sneaking around."

Peter really didn't think the glasses looked cool on their own. But the fact that his and Tony's matched was pretty awesome. Back at the Compound he would have tried to snap a selfie, catching Tony off guard and then goading him into hamming it up for the camera.

Now wasn't the time for that.

"So, are we walking to dinner?" he asked, easily matching Tony's brisk stride. The onlookers parted before them, the teenagers less tenacious than journalists. He could hear Ned calling, "Nothing to see here people."

"Nah. Happy's right around the corner."

"So Happy's here, but you had to wait for me in the Iron Man suit."

"I was proving a point. The point being I was freaking out and I'd much rather do that alone in my suit than in front of someone in my employ." Tony didn't turn to look at him. Just said it, matter of fact.

"I was freaking out too, you know," Peter said softly, right before he was distracted by the sound of a window being rolled down.

"Hey kid. Make me wait just a little bit longer, won't you."

"Happy!" Peter never thought he'd be so happy to see that grumpy face when he wasn't in danger or any kind of trouble. It was probably a good thing the door was locked, because Peter felt a strong urge to hug the man which would certainly not have been appreciated.

Tony opened the back door and gestured for Peter to slide in before Happy had a chance to leave the car, waving at him to sit. "Something's up. There's no way you'd both be so happy to see me."

"I'm always happy to see you. It's in the name and the job description. Take us to my favorite shawarma joint, stat."

Peter could see Happy's eyebrows raise in the mirror. "Now I know something's up."

"Don't worry about it."

The drive passed in companionable silence. Tony didn't seem to want to raise the barrier, and Peter didn't want to mention anything Avenger-y when Happy could hear. Not that he couldn't be trusted. It just wasn't his place. It was kind of fun to watch the man study them when he thought they weren't paying attention, as if he could reason out their secret.

Whatever he might guess, there was no way he was gonna come close.

Shawarma Palace was just a little hole in the wall, with a handful of tables and counter service only. Peter had been there once, with Ned, after someone had posted a photo of the Avengers eating there after the battle of New York. The line had been out of the door, and the food had been average, but Peter had been able to honestly contemplate which Avenger might have sat in his seat – was it Iron Man himself, or Captain America, or the Black Widow? There was a chair bowing slightly that Ned swore had been Thor's.

Surprisingly enough, the craze had died down fast. The photo had disappeared from Instagram, and its Yelp page included a stern warning that anyone who came in hopes of getting a photo or an autograph from the Avengers would be asked to leave. Peter had been too embarrassed to go back after that.

"So, you've got a favorite order?" Tony asked as they stepped inside the restaurant. An old man who might have been homeless sat at one of the tables by the wall. Otherwise the place was empty.

"Nah. Just order what you usually get."

"When Thor's here, that's five of everything. You brought your appetite today, kid? I know how that spider can eat."

"Not as much as Thor," he said with a grimace. He would never try that again. A breakthrough in the lab had made him particularly cocky the day he'd challenged the Asgardian to a hot dog eating contest, and he'd regretted it for days. But he'd always have the memory of Black Widow and Ant Man chanting his name, while Cassie and Lila cheered him on. Even if he'd also have the memory of what came after.

Tony clapped him on the back with a shit-eating grin. "That was a solid B+ effort."

Peter picked a table and Tony came back with one of everything. He explained it all while Peter acted oblivious. He liked when Tony taught him stuff, even if there was always a bit of him that was clearly showing off.

Tony's phone rang halfway through the second course. He glanced down, finger clearly ready to silence it, and then hesitated. "It's Pepper. I should probably take this."

"Go ahead," Peter said, reaching for another pita. The shawarma tasted better this time around, but maybe that was because Tony knew what to order and what sauces to use. Or maybe the staff just liked the Avengers better than everyone trying to stalk them.

"Hey honey," Tony said, leaning back in his chair but not getting up to find any privacy.

Peter couldn't help but hear the other half of the conversation, his enhanced senses better than the muffling on Tony's StarkPhone speakers. Awkward as it was, Peter counted that as a personal victory. "Did you find Peter?" Miss Potts asked.

Tony froze, his gaze shifting to Peter. "You remember, huh?" he said cautiously.

"It's a damn good thing I do, or I'd be livid at you for running off without explanation and ignoring my calls all day. You're just lucky I find it sexy when you act like an overprotective father."

"Aw geez," Peter said, blushing furiously.

Tony chuckled. "You're scarring the kid, Pep. Say hello, Peter."

"Hello Miss Potts," he mumbled.

Miss Pott's laugh was rich and kind, and something he hadn't heard during those tense months. "Hello Peter. You boys have fun. But Tony, don't keep him out too late. It's a school night."

"What is it with the both of you and caring about school so much? Live a little."

"It's called responsibility dear." That tone was a bit more familiar as the line cut off.

"So you just ran off and left Miss Potts without checking if she remembered?" Peter asked incredulously. "I may not know much about girls, but even I know that was dumb."

"Hey!" Tony snatched away the sauce he'd taught Peter to use. "In my defense, she said something which I thought indicated she didn't remember. All I could think of was finding you. Then you weren't where you were supposed to be!"

He'd spent a lot of time watching Tony and studying what made him unhinged. Threats to Peter's safety had always set him off, even before they became close.

"I wasn't in the suit, you know," he said slowly, careful not to be accusatory. "When it crumbled. I was back in Wakanda, with Shuri. Safe."

Tony huffed out an exaggerated breath and rotated the phone between his hands. "I knew that – in my head. In my heart it felt like watching you die all over again."

It caught Peter unawares, as it always did, the depth of Tony's concern about his own mortality. He didn't know how he'd gotten the man to care so much. "I didn't die the first time," he said softly, but he couldn't stop the shudder that ran through him at the memory— _fear and pain, senses screaming, HE DIDN'T WANT TO GO._

"Right. But when I closed my eyes I thought you were going to. It was too much, seeing the suit turn to ash."

Peter wished he could leave it at that. Think of happier times and move on. But he had to discuss it now, in case F.R.I.D.A.Y. ratted him out.

He didn't want to live with the guilt.

"After Karen lost visuals I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. transmit her video and audio feeds," Peter said. He tried to sound nonchalant, but Tony tensed. "I knew you were upset! I wanted to tell you I was okay, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. said you couldn't be distracted. And Shuri said that maybe you needed the loss to drive you forward, so you could avenge me. But I should have pressed them harder because you shouldn't have had to think—not even for a minute—"

Tony's hand reached out and grabbed his from where it was trembling on the table. "I'm not mad, kid. How can I be mad when you're sitting right here in front of me, all your cells and your memories intact?"

"Then why did you make that face?" It had been just a second, but Peter had seen something sour flash across Tony's features before he'd pushed it away.

"I'm not proud of the way I acted. Not that I'm sorry. Nobody hurts my kid. And I couldn't let him get away with what he did to Nebula and Gamora. That monster didn't deserve to call himself a father. I just wish you hadn't seen me lose control."

Peter found it shocking that not only did Tony know the names of Thanos's daughters, he had used them.

There was also the bit where he went all Kill Bill because an alien overlord had not-killed Peter twice.

"It's okay," Peter said, meaning it. He might have a nightmare or two about Titan 2.0, honestly, but that probably came with the superhero territory. He could handle it. "I just didn't want you to hurt because of me."

"I think that comes with being a parent, Pete. I've decided to be okay with it." Tony leaned back, rolling his shoulders. "I'm just glad you remember the last few months so I don't have to make up excuses to get close to you."

"You could have offered me an actual internship," Peter teased.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Who said that marginally supervised vigilante superheroing was not an actual internship?"

"HR, probably."

"Lame."

"You wouldn't have had to do much," Peter admitted. "I would have been thrilled at any attention at all."

"So it wouldn't have been weird if I showed up at your school with cannolis fresh from Italy or tickets to the premier of the latest Star Wars or something?"

He said it so casually, like it was no big thing, but Peter couldn't help the burst of excitement. "That would have been weird. But awesome! You can still do that, you know. I can be bribed."

Tony chuckled and reached for another pita. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Can you really get tickets to the Star Wars premier?" Peter asked, unable to help himself. "Because these movies aren't nearly as good as the originals, but still, wow—"

"Remind me before the next one comes out and I'll see what I can do."

"Are you being serious right now? Because that's insane."

Tony grinned. "Oh, the excesses of wealth."

Peter's mind raced with possibilities, but he pushed them aside. "I spent all day worrying how to get you to pay attention to me if you didn't remember. That would have been a lot harder. Especially since I don't even have your number."

"What do you mean? You have my number."

"I did in my old phone. Or my new phone, I guess. That phone I'll never have now."

"My number's the same, kid."

Peter rubbed at his neck, sheepish, wishing there was a way around this admission. "Yeah, but I don't remember it."

"Oh my gosh. We only texted like a billion times. Millennials!" Tony shot off a quick text and Peter felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

"I'm too young to be a millennial, actually," Peter corrected, chuckling at the look of horror that crossed Tony's face.

"Say that again and no Star Wars for you! Just memorize the number."

"Promise."

"I'll have to make you another watch, too, so Karen can always get a hold of me." Peter could see Tony's mind spinning towards his next project. While he normally loved those tangents, today Peter felt the need to interrupt.

"Do you think we're the only ones who remember?"

"Not sure. Wasn't proximity to the stone, because Pepper was in New York and you were in Wakanda. Maybe the Time Stone intuited who I'd want to retain their memories. I'll get in touch with the others, see what they know. Hope Cap remembers, or that will be a really awkward phone call."

Things had been tense between Tony and Steve when they'd first holed up together. Peter only understood bits of what had caused the showdown in Germany, and even less about the fallout afterwards. The Avengers that he'd always dreamed about were broken, and Peter hated that he'd been even a tiny part of that. But they'd all gotten close again as they lived and trained and plotted together, and while Peter could still sense a hesitance on Tony's part, he and Steve seemed at least more than civil.

"What if May doesn't?" Peter asked. He could already imagine the scene, the first time Tony acted extra chummy or extravagant and May let him have it for his lifetime of irresponsible behavior.

"Then I'll just have to charm her all over again. Honestly it might be easier in a timeline where I don't take you into space without permission while she spends days thinking you might be dead."

"I guess," Peter said, unconvinced.

"Speaking of the new normal, have you thought about whether you want to go back to the Compound?"

He hadn't. Back on the bus when no one remembered that hadn't even been an option. Despite the thrill that ran through him at the thought he knew it still wasn't now. "I can't," he answered before he allowed himself to have second thoughts. "I'm sorry! Staying at the Compound was amazing, but it won't be the same now. The others aren't even there, right? And I know you think it's lame, but I have school that I really should finish. And even if May remembers, her job's in Queens, and I can't leave her, and if she doesn't remember then she definitely won't let me go." He felt the loss, sudden and acute, of the life where Tony was right upstairs at all times, but it couldn't be helped.

"Relax kid. You don't need to apologize. First off because I can't stand it when you do that. But also because that was the right answer."

"Wait, it was?"

"Yeah. I'm not going back either."

"You're not?"

"I promised Pepper that once the world was saved this time around I'd retire Iron Man. I've said that before. I'd like to mean it this time. But if I've got a shot I've got to remove myself from temptation. I can't do that living in a den of superheroes."

It was like Peter was freefalling with empty webshooters so there was no way to catch himself. Peter knew that Tony used to live in California, before the Avengers brought him to New York more permanently. California was probably a nice place to retire, but Peter had never been, and there wasn't a quick or cheap way to get there.

"Hey kid." Tony snapped his fingers. "Are you spacing out on me? Is it past curfew? Or is the thought of me without Iron Man really that horrifying?"

"Where will you go?" he blurted, before he realized that wasn't the question he should have asked. "I mean, what will you do?"

Peter hadn't played that cool at all, and Tony obviously noticed. He looked a little more serious, a little more closed off.

It was the sort of face someone might make before they told you something you wouldn't like.

"I figure maybe it's time to pay some attention to Stark Industries. Do a little R&D. Go to a board meeting or two. I can do consulting work for the Avengers if they need it, but no more active duty. I've already got Fri scoping out some real estate in the city."

"You're staying in New York?" His response was too loud, too eager. He tried to play it cooler than Ned, but he'd never done a real good job hiding what he thought of Tony.

"Good a place as any to settle down. Better than most. I thought about Venice but I've got a kid in the city, you know." He said it so offhandedly, like everything was just one big game of deflection, but he looked at Peter afterwards, right in the eyes. "Everything in my price range has like a dozen extra rooms. One of 'em's yours, if you want it. Hell, you could have the whole dozen."

For a few seconds Peter forgot to breathe, because having a room at the Avengers Compound where Tony happened to live while they all tried to save the world was far different than having a room at Tony's private penthouse, when all the world could notice and wonder why. "You really mean that?"

"I really do." Tony smiled, and there was something so genuine about it that made him look younger. They'd all aged after the first battle with Thanos, and the second had erased that, but Tony had carried a weariness since he delivered Peter home after Germany, and that seemed gone as well. "Look, all that mushy stuff from before – it still applies, even though the gauntlets are off, literally and metaphorically. Things are going to be different now. I was reckless waiting for you at your school like that. I'm not exactly good at careful, but I'll need to work on that. Eventually the media is going to catch wind of all this, and we'll need a story and a plan. It's not easy being associated with Tony Stark, not in the real world, and as much as I try to shield you from that there's going to come a day when I fail. It's okay if you want to opt out of this."

Peter laughed, the idea of opting out of one of the best things that ever happened to him completely ridiculous. Didn't Tony realize how miserable he'd been all day thinking he'd lost this? "I don't think kids get to opt out of their parents. As much as some teenagers might want to."

"You could opt out of this."

There was something just a little too heavy there, an implication of an earlier remark that Peter was still mulling over. "Did you really think you were my father?"

"No." Tony's answer was immediate, and the loss it provoked just as instantaneous.

"Don't look at me like that, kid. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to look at me like that."

Peter tried to push the pain away, because it wasn't rational. Of course Tony wasn't his _real_ father. It had never once occurred to him before today that he was. He had no right to mourn something that was never his, nor was it fair to his actual dad, and those few hazy memories he featured in.

"I'm fine," he said, but his voice cracked.

"Don't lie to me," Tony scolded, but there was no bite it in. He got up, dragged his chair around the table, and plunked it down next to Peter's, close enough that their shoulders brushed. "I was always careful about these things for this very reason, but I looked up a photo of your mother anyway. She wasn't at all familiar, which didn't necessarily—never mind. Point is I knew it was very unlikely. But when I got the results there was still a moment when I bet I looked just like you did there."

Peter closed his eyes against the emotions that assailed him. Tony's arm reached around his back and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I've been thinking about it though." Peter let his head tilt to the side to rest against Tony's shoulder, the cadence of Tony's voice calming the intensity of his emotions. "Maybe this is better. Because if you were mine biologically the media would have spun it into some tawdry scandal, claimed you were only after my money. They would have said you were a mistake, and a responsibility. And maybe someday, after we got into some stupid fight, you'd start to believe it. And that couldn't be further from the truth. This thing we've got going, we both chose it. I didn't have to pay any attention to you and you didn't have to put up with me. Yet here we are. Father and son anyway. And that's about the last thing I ever expected to happen to me, and I've fought aliens."

Laughter bubbled up from Peter. He opened his eyes to find Tony watching him closely, as if he still expected Peter might reject him somehow. That possibility was so absurd Peter couldn't fathom it, but it bothered Peter that Tony could. He supposed he'd never said much in response to all Tony's soliloquies. Every time Tony had told Peter what he meant to him he'd just soaked up the praise, any response he could think of seeming inadequate. But it wasn't right if Tony thought this was one-sided. If he thought there was even the slightest possibility that Peter could walk away.

"I was obsessed with Iron Man as a kid," Peter said, realizing it was time for a confession of his own. "I begged Ben and May to take me to the Stark Expo. We actually met there, you and me, but you probably don't remember. I had this Iron Man mask that I insisted on wearing. I got separated when the drones attacked, and one landed right in front of me. I was facing it down, and then you swooped in and said—"

"Nice work kid."

"I guess you do remember."

The chair made an angry screech against the floor as Tony pushed it backwards and sprang up, as if ready for a fight. "Holy Shit, Peter, that was you?"

"Language," he teased, unable to help it.

"You could have been killed." Tony paced back and forth in front of their table like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair.

Peter realized that perhaps he had started his confession wrong. "I'm fine, obviously. Sit down. You're causing a scene."

But the homeless man wasn't watching them and the workers in the restaurant had probably seen much weirder from the rest of the Avengers.

"Christ, Pete," Tony muttered, but he did sit down, staring all the while at Peter like he might disappear any moment.

"That was basically how Aunt May reacted."

"I suddenly have a much better understanding of why she didn't like me."

"I wasn't, like, traumatized. It was the coolest thing that ever happened to me! Ned was so jealous. I wanted to be just like Iron Man after that. When I got bitten by that spider I realized that maybe I actually could. And then one day you show up in my apartment, and you knew what I could do and you wanted my help on an actual mission – it was everything I had ever dreamed of." Things had gotten a little rough after that, with him overeager and Tony aloof and Happy trapped in the middle. But it had all worked out in the end.

"Here's the thing though." He paused, making sure Tony was watching him, because he didn't want him to doubt the next part, not even for a second. "Having Tony Stark as a father is like a million times better than having Iron Man as a mentor."

He waited as Tony went very still, and blinked slowly, and didn't say a word.

"Too mushy?" he asked once the silence grew a little awkward.

Tony shook his head. "Nope. Your old man is just trying not to cry."

He said it like a joke, but Peter suspected it wasn't as much of one as he'd wanted it to be, which meant that he'd gotten his point across.

It also meant it was time for a quick retreat.

"I'll never opt out of us," he said, serious for a few more seconds, before he leapt from his chair. "But I would opt in for some dessert. Can we get cannolis? We don't have to go to Italy. There's a great little place in Queens."

One year ago Peter would have never believed that he'd be going out for dessert with Tony Stark. That the man he'd idolized for so long from afar would become his surrogate dad. Would step close enough to mess up his hair and whisper, "I love you kid," before cracking a joke and racing him to the exit. But sometimes, Peter had discovered, in the midst of pain and uncertainty life gave you the most wonderous gifts.

With a peel of laughter he followed his father into the glorious evening.

* * *

 **Sorry for the cliffhanger on the last part, but this was getting long! Obviously I couldn't let Tony actually forget!**

 **If you've enjoyed this please leave me a note to let me know what you think. I've been under the weather all week and spent the past two days flat out on the couch, so reviews would really make my day!**


	3. Chapter 3

Peter had forgotten how boring his life was.

There were bright spots, of course. Like the moment he'd opened the door to his apartment, stuffed full of cannolis and practically shaking with nerves, and May had tackled him, repeating, "My little hero," over and over.

"I guess you're not this excited that I finally got through a field trip without incident," he teased once he could breathe through her bear hug, giddy from sugar and relief.

She pulled away, attempting to look parentally disapproving, but she dissolved into giggles within seconds and tugged him toward the couch.

"Who else remembers?" she asked. "No one at work seemed to."

"Tony. And Pepper." He shrugged. "That's all I know for sure."

"That's all that really matters," she said knowingly.

"Not true," he countered. "I wanted you to remember too."

"You just wanted to save us both the hassle of me discovering that I'm co-parenting with Tony Stark."

She had basically hit that right on the nose. "What? No. That wasn't the only reason. I also wanted you to remember all the cool times you had as the Avengers' den mother."

Tony's moniker had stuck, and May had come to embrace it. His wonderous aunt had lived among heroes and aliens with relative ease, doling out chores and planning meals with the same warm efficiency – and occasional culinary disaster – with which she oversaw her tiny Queens' domain.

"That's BS, but I'll allow it."

She perched near the edge of the couch and patted her leg. Peter took the cue, resting his head in her lap and letting all the stress drain out of him as he sprawled out and stared up at the ceiling. This had been their routine once. Peter would come home from school and tell her about his day. Bullies never seemed strong when May was so close, nor assignments daunting. Gradually he'd grown up and told her less from a further distance. Until after Ben, when the comfort didn't seem so childish. The patterns she'd traced into his scalp had grounded him, focusing his haywire senses. Sometimes after a bad patrol they'd curl up like this, knowing that nothing could touch them in their little cocoon of safety.

It was odd to be so relaxed. There had been good times at the Avengers Compound, probably more than Peter should admit to, but the final battle had loomed like a cancer in remission, leaving them on constant high alert for the potentially fatal resolution.

"I wonder where Bruce and Nat are now," May asked softly as she threaded her hand through Peter's hair. She never called any of the Avengers by their alter egos. Peter wasn't sure she even knew what they all were. To her they were just people, and Peter loved her all the more for it.

"Tony'll find them." Truth was he wondered too. He hated to think of them hiding away, exiled and spurned by the world they had just saved. None of them did it for glory, but they deserved to be honored – respected at least.

But Tony knew how important the team was. How each and every one of them had played a pivotal role in their victory. How scattered they had failed spectacularly.

No matter how long it might take, he would bring them back together again.

Peter and May stayed up well past midnight, recounting their favorite memories as they ate half a gallon of Stark Raving Hazelnuts and fell asleep together once their blood sugar crashed.

Decathlon practice the next day was unbearably awkward. MJ shot him odd looks throughout, somewhere between pity and perplexment, leaving Peter constantly wondering just how close her memories were to the surface. It didn't help that she probably wouldn't tell him if she did remember. That she might have known he was Spiderman all along. He felt like she was constantly watching him, but he didn't know how to bring that up without making it worse.

Afterwards he took Ned back to his apartment and told him everything – from living with the Avengers to how Tony Stark had become his dad. Ned was so excited that Peter was afraid he might start hyperventilating. Every single story was the most awesome thing Ned had ever heard. But his excitement was contagious, and Peter bounced around the room, demonstrating moves he had practiced and recreating the battles he had fought. Now that he was back home the past few months seemed even more exceptional. Times had been too dire to be a fanboy, and he'd wanted the others to think he was old enough to handle what they were facing. But it was nice to be among someone who could appreciate how insane it was that he knew Black Widow's favorite cereal, and had eaten food cooked by Captain America.

He missed Tony, though, even though he was only a text away. His messages were vague and brief, and a poor substitute for spending most of every day with the man. Peter knew he was busy trying to bring the others home, and tried not to be needy. But at least a dozen times a day he opened the message from Thursday morning and stared at the photo of the two of them bent over the Iron Man suit. There was something so similar about their profiles that Peter could understand why Tony had wondered – just for a minute.

Pepper had taken the photo, and while she claimed she had only sent it to May somehow it had circulated around the Compound, and Tony had warded off jokes about his newfound paternal instincts for _weeks_.

"Something from the Archives," the message had said. It made no sense for there to be archives of a future that would now never be, but Peter wasn't about to argue. It gave him hope that some of his other photos might resurface. He was terribly afraid that one day he might wake up and think that everything had been a dream. It was probably unhealthy to be so attached to a timeline where half the universe had died, but he couldn't help it.

He was glad he had Ned to help remember the stories, now.

It was thoroughly unhelpful that he'd outgrown high school.

* * *

By the time the final bell rang on Friday Peter was so ready for his weekend to begin. He and Ned were going to hang out that night, and on Saturday he was going to go on patrol for the first time in ages. Anything would be better than another boring day of classes.

They had just stepped into freedom when a familiar voice asked, "Need a ride upstate?"

Natasha leaned against a pillar, wearing dark wash jeans, a leather jacket, and a smirk. Peter had long ago learned to see the fondness beneath that particular harsh expression.

"Nat!" He ran forward and hugged her tightly. "You're back!" he exclaimed as he pulled away. "You are back, right? Is it safe for you to be here?" he asked as he scanned the area. Of course everyone was staring, because this was high school and she was far too pretty.

Her lip tugged up ever so slightly. "We're back. The Accords were annulled this morning, although Ross is trying to delay the official announcement."

"How did that happen so fast?"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. backdated some files of the world governments promising us pardons if we were able to reverse Thanos's genocide. As much as they wanted to, they couldn't argue with videos of themselves."

That seemed more like magic than technology, but Peter wasn't going to complain. He did know a couple of wizards, after all.

"Oh my gosh. That's the Black Widow, isn't it? It has to be." Ned stood a few paces back, openly staring, and Peter shook his head.

"Be cool, man," he said, but there was no bite behind it.

Nat turned toward his friend and extended her hand. "Natasha Romanoff. You must be Ned."

Ned started to put out his hand, floundered, and finally grasped the woman's hand but forgot to shake. "The Black Widow knows my name!"

Peter groaned, but Nat met his eyes and mouthed, "Cute." When she turned back to Ned she'd donned a wry smile. "Unless you're an international terrorist you can just call me Nat." She shook their joined hands once and then broke away. "I was serious about the ride. Tony asked me to pick you up."

"What's he doing at the Compound?" Peter asked. Tony had sent him a few pictures of his new penthouse in the City, and it was absolutely insane.

"He said something about a party."

Ned was practically vibrating with enthusiastic envy. "You're going to a party with the Avengers? I cannot believe your luck! You have got to send me snaps like every five minutes. I want to see everyone! I won't screenshot anything, I promise."

Peter was about to promise he would – as awkward as that would be – when Nat spoke first. "Actually my instructions were to bring you both. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?"

All the color drained from Ned's face, and Peter thought for a moment he was going to pass out. Peter would be able to catch him before he hit the ground, but his staring classmates probably weren't oblivious enough not to think that was weird. "What could possibly be better than partying with the Avengers? Never mind. Don't answer that. I hope I find out. But why am I invited?"

"Tony said something about owing you a favor."

Ned turned to Peter and gripped his arm. "Peter, I will face down MJ every day for you if this is my reward."

Peter grinned back. He'd never thought he'd get to show Ned where he'd lived and trained and engineered.

"Apparently this is an overnight soiree. Tony's already called your parents. We'll stop by your place and then Peter's to pick up your stuff."

Peter pulled his phone from his pocket. "I'll call Aunt May."

"She's actually at the Compound already. Happy picked her up this morning."

Peter had seen May before school, and she hadn't mentioned anything besides heading to work. She was pretty awful at keeping secrets, so Peter suspected Tony's invitation had come out of the blue. He had about as much respect for a work routine as a school one.

Ned's parents were still at work once they got to his place, so they missed the hysterics that Ned was certain were inevitable when his mom talked about getting a call from Tony Stark. Ned stared at his closet, at a loss for what to wear in the presence of the Avengers, before choosing an outfit that Peter found indistinguishable from his normal wardrobe.

Peter left him to his vacillating, and sat in the living room with Nat. Her tale of the past few days was far more exciting than his own. She and Steve remembered everything about their time after the snap, but Sam, Wanda, Bucky, and Vision did not.

"Should I bring the hat?" Ned asked, emerging from his room with a bulging duffle bag, his special occasion fedora perched on his head.

Peter was about to advise against it when he was distracted by the sound that came out of Natasha, so light and airy that it might have been a _giggle_. He didn't think the _Black Widow_ was capable of such a joyous sound.

"Definitely," Nat said.

* * *

Peter took much less time to pack his bags, because there was no one at the Compound that he still needed to impress. They drove out of the city with the windows down while Ned asked personal questions Peter never had dared. Surprisingly Nat answered most of them, but from what little he did know Peter suspected her stories were heavily edited.

The drive passed quickly. Nat was a much better conversationalist than Happy, and Peter knew that each mile brought him closer to his dad, and all the people he hadn't been sure he'd see again anytime soon.

"Whoa! Is that always there?" Ned asked as they pulled up to the Compound. A large tent had been pitched in the front yard, Iron Man red and accented with gold.

"No."

"Tony went all out on this party thing," Nat explained as they exited the car. Peter wasn't sure what the point was since they'd all fit comfortably in the Lounge – though he supposed there were twice as many of them now. It looked like a circus tent – but shinier – somehow projecting wealth even though it was probably just canvas.

Peter had barely stepped into the tent when he sensed someone running at him, and he swooped Cassie up and perched her on his hip.

"How's my favorite girl?" he asked, already knowing the answer because he'd never seen her happier, all grins and curls.

"A-mazing! Daddy's friends brought everyone back, and they don't even remember they were gone!"

"Cassie, what did I say about running off?" Scott jogged up, looking a bit winded but entirely relaxed. "I take my eyes off her for one minute to look at the ice sculptures—"

"There are ice sculptures?"

"Yeah. I don't think your Dad knows how to do subtle." Unlike the others, Scott hadn't known Tony before his partner and her whole family disappeared while he was in the Quantum Realm. Abandoned and out of his depth, the Avengers Compound had seemed like the safest place to bring his daughter. He was accepted readily enough, when every advantage was desperately needed. He'd arrived sullen and withdrawn, but one morning he'd looked up at Peter over the box of Lucky Charms they'd been sharing and remarked, "I didn't know Tony Stark had a son."

Peter had stuttered out a denial, but it had been no use. While the rest of the Avengers had teased Tony mercilessly about his new paternal instincts, Scott had found Peter to be a safer target. Even now, months after they'd stopped denying the bond between them, Scott added a bit too much emphasis to the word "Dad."

"I had to say hi to Pete, Dad," Cassie insisted, and Peter couldn't help but smile. The girl had her father's sass and a dangerous amount of charm. "Have you said hi?"

Scott seemed quite incapable of resisting it as well. "No I guess I have not. How rude of me." He reached out and tweaked his daughter's nose. "Hi Peter. Thanks for the save back on Titan, man."

Peter grinned back. "No problem." It hadn't taken him long to realize how much he liked Scott, who was a solid dude and an even better father.

"Sorry about your extra suit though."

Peter shrugged. "It hasn't even been made, now. I was fine." He left off the, "You wouldn't have been," because Cassie didn't need to know that. It wouldn't have mattered, probably, but Peter was still glad that getting vaporized was one memory Scott wouldn't have to carry.

Ned cleared his throat, commandeering the attention. "Now _I'm_ being rude," Peter said. "This is my friend Ned. Ned, this is Scott and Cassie Lang."

Scott held out his hand. "Ant-Man," he said, brimming with mirthful gravitas.

A woman had materialized by his side, slight in the same way Natasha was, with danger hiding in each sinew. Her arms were crossed, her face scowled. Peter knew of two important women in Scott's life. It wasn't difficult to guess which one this might be.

"You must be Hope."

Instead of looking him in the face she watched the way he held Cassie as if she weighed nothing. His senses tingled just enough to let him know that while she wasn't a threat, she wasn't friendly, either, though he didn't need super powers to figure that out.

"Hey Cass, why don't you run and play with Lila for a while," Scott suggested.

"Is this one of those _adults are talking now_ moments?" She sounded so much older than her age that Peter laughed as he set her down.

"You know it my little genius."

"All right." She heaved an exaggerated sigh directed at her father, and then turned back to Peter. "Lila has two brothers now. But she says we'll always be sisters." She flung herself around Peter's waist and then departed just as quickly.

"She's in love with you, you know," Scott said, nonchalantly.

"What?" Peter choked. Cassie was awful friendly with him, but she was _nine._ "I'm sorry." Beside him Ned snickered, entirely unhelpfully.

"You better be. I can grow up to forty feet tall." Scott sounded gravely serious, but it was only a few seconds before he broke into a grin. "It's okay. Before you it was the Red Power Ranger. Next it'll probably be some Disney Channel star. At least you're not Justin Bieber."

"Amen, brother," Ned said. "But you could garner an Instagram following if you tried. I could run the account, as an extension of my Guy in the Chair duties."

"I'd follow you," Scott said. "But if you hurt my daughter I will smash you like the bug you are."

"He's Spider-Man," Ned and Scott said simultaneously, afterwards sharing a grin and a high five, and Peter wasn't exactly comfortable just blurting that out but he was at an Avenger's party after all. Scott clearly expected Hope to be impressed, but she was looking at Peter with an expression gradually swinging from bored to enraged.

The sound she emitted from the back of her throat was clearly disapproval. "So Scott talked about me, huh?"

Peter didn't understand the hostility the woman was emanating. She'd be pretty, probably, if she smiled, and he knew Scott cared about her, so there had to be some explanation for why she'd turned such a basic question into a trap. "We all talked about the ones we lost. It reminded us why we had to keep fighting to get them back."

"You see, how can you be mad at such pure motivations?" Scott leaned towards Peter and Ned and lowered his voice as if telling a secret. "Hope doesn't like the Avengers."

"How can you not like the Avengers?" Ned asked before Peter had a chance to say it.

"Easy. Because they pulled a couple oblivious idiots into their turf war, leaving Scott under house arrest for two years while my father and I had to go on the run." She looked pointedly at Peter, and he could feel the hairs raise on his arms. "And they're apparently recruiting children now. You're what, fourteen?"

"I'm sixteen!" Peter protested. "And they didn't recruit me so much as I volunteered."

"But no one protested, did they? They're always willing to let someone else do the dirty work and take the fall."

"Hope, that's enough," Scott said with uncharacteristic sternness. "I'm sorry, Pete. You and Ned should run along. Enjoy the party."

But Peter couldn't just leave, not when his _family_ was under attack. "You don't understand. Not at all. Germany was a mess, and I'm sorry you and Scott got caught in the fallout. But the Avengers are just people, under the masks and the suits, and people make mistakes. But when half the world was gone they put all that aside and they came together to fix it, whatever it took. And Scott was an important part of that, and I was too. And if you would have been alive you would have been welcome. But you weren't, so you have no idea what we all went through. You have no right to judge us."

For a few moments all Peter could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. Hope had clenched her jaw but held her tongue. Peter hoped there was something remorseful in her expression, but he couldn't be sure.

"Where did you learn to make speeches like that?" Ned asked, so apparently oblivious to the awkwardness choking all of them that it had to be intentional. "Was it part of your basic training? Superhero 101?"

Peter heard someone approaching and recognized the gait, breathing, and heartbeat. Something loosening in his chest, and he grinned even before Tony drawled, "He picked it up from hanging around with me."

Peter scoffed exaggeratedly and Tony rolled his eyes. "Okay, and maybe Capiscle. Man, Grandpa can talk." Tony sidled up right beside Peter and then scanned the rest of the little crowd. "Ned, good man, glad you could make it. Scott." He paused at Hope, and a warning crept into his cheerful tone. "And you must be Hope van Dyne. Enjoying my hospitality, I see."

To her credit Hope didn't flinch, even though Tony had used that tone against aliens and gods and watched them quail. "Peter here thinks you should be forgiven for your past actions on the basis of events I'll never remember. Jury's still out on whether I believe him."

"Good luck with that," Tony said coldly. "In the meantime I'm going to extract my kid from this terribly awkward conversation." He draped his arm around Peter's shoulder and winked. "Want to get out of here?"

Peter had lost count how many times Tony had referred to him as his kid, but it still left him flush with pride and overwhelming gratitude. "I really do." Peter had just enough foresight to grab Ned's wrist and tug him along as Tony steered him through the tent, past ice sculptures of the whole team Assembled and cocktail tables decorated to spotlight individual heroes.

The last thing Peter heard as the noise of the rest of the party overwhelmed him was Hope's shocked, "I didn't know Tony Stark had a son."

They headed directly for the stage at the back of the tent, but Tony asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to lower the music as they approached the speakers. The table Pepper waited beside was Spiderman themed, the centerpiece an elaborate replica of his Iron Spider Suit in front of a patchwork of webbing. The decorations were all clearly custom made, because the public had never seen the Iron Spider suit. Technically it was still in a capsule in this very Compound, never worn in this timeline.

Peter's ninth birthday party had been Iron Man themed. They'd held it in a park and invited his whole class. May had grumbled a bit, but she'd bought Iron Man cardboard birthday hats at a party store, and a cheap plastic table cloth of all the Avengers. Peter wondered if one day there'd be Spiderman stuff in that same store, a whole generation of kids looking at his symbol and imaging they were him.

This party was not like his ninth birthday at all.

"There you are," Pepper said as soon as she caught sight of them. "Now Tony can relax and stop planning evasive maneuvers." She set her champagne flute on the tablecloth emblazoned with his sigil and pressed a quick kiss to Peter's cheek. "It's good to see you Peter."

He blushed under the attention, knowing that Ned was soaking up every interaction. "You too, Miss Potts."

"You're going to have to give that up once we're hitched, you know. If you call me Dad and her Mrs. Stark everyone's going to think we're more dysfunctional than we actually are."

"He can call me whatever he likes. But the formality is unnecessary."

She'd told him that more times than he'd bothered to count, but the politeness May had ingrained in him was a hard habit to shake.

"And I'll have you know, sweetheart, that the search and rescue was entirely necessary. Lang's girl had him cornered. She seems like a handful."

"Does she now?" Miss Potts said archly.

Peter looked between Tony and Pepper, dressed to the nines and perfectly matched. Tony's dress shirt was cobalt blue, in the exact striking shade as Pepper's gown, which was floor-length save for the high slit and the low neckline. Said neckline was encrusted with white stones, which knowing Tony might actually be diamonds.

Peter hadn't bothered changing from the jeans and t-shirt he'd worn to school. He felt terribly under-dressed, even though he wasn't that much shabbier than Scott. "Nat didn't tell me it was a fancy party."

"The dress code's come as you are. I just happen to be fabulous. What, too much?" Tony asked as Peter rolled his eyes. It was too much, definitely, but there was an ease about Tony that Peter wasn't used to. He slipped an arm around Pepper's waist and she leaned into him with a contented hum, uncharacteristically relaxed as well. There was no glow of an nanobots under his shirt, and no bags under his eyes.

"I missed you," Peter blurted, which wasn't what he'd meant to say at all, but the truth of it had just burst out of him.

The sentiment caught Tony just as off guard, but he recovered after only a few beats. "I missed you too, kid." He reached into his pocket and tossed whatever he extracted in Peter's direction. "There's a fancy suit in your room if you want to change, but if I were you I'd go down to the garage and check out your present instead. You should have a little time before the rest of the guests arrive."

Peter stared at the small black rectangle he'd caught. It took awhile for its purpose to register, and even then he still couldn't quite believe it. "Why did you just toss me a key fob?"

"Come on now, I know you're a genius. What possible reason could I have for throwing you some keys and telling you to go to a _garage_?"

He was so overcome by shock that Tony's sarcasm didn't even register. "You got me a _car_?" he finally managed to sputter.

" _Pepper_ got you a car!" Tony crowed. "And I was too damn proud to tell her it was too much so you'll just have to accept it."

Peter turned to the woman in question, who was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read, but it was soft and fond and joyous all at once. "Why would you do that?" he asked, because as much as Miss Potts had always been there the past few months, efficient and rational and undoubtedly Tony's rock, Peter barely knew her outside her role as the other half of Tony's heart and the organizer of his life.

"To say thank you for bringing Tony home to me. And for all the ways you helped him after. He's a better man for the way he cares for you."

Peter could hear Tony shift, clearly uncomfortable, but Peter still couldn't quite think straight. "You didn't have to. I didn't help him to get anything."

"Of course not. I'm still grateful."

"It's a gift, kid," Tony said, his voice a bit soft. "Well deserved with no strings. Pep did a good job picking it out, even if it is a bit boring. Though I did have time to make a few modifications."

"It's not boring, it's subtle," Pepper countered. It was obvious this was an argument they'd had before. "And practical. The last thing Peter needs is a car that screams, 'I'm associated with Iron Man.'"

"But red is a great color."

"With tasteful gold accents?"

"That's the spirit!"

"Why don't you let Peter decide?"

"You may be right – for now. But if we go public I'm painting the car!"

Miss Potts grinned at her victory and turned back to Peter. "There's no need for you to stand and listen to us bicker. Go on. Check it out."

Peter was still in a daze as Ned practically drug him out of the tent. "I don't know where the garage is, man," he said once they were outside. The brisk April air cleared his mind a bit; he hadn't realized how stuffy it was under the tent.

"Right. This way." Peter still couldn't believe this was happening. Getting a car of his own had always seemed like an impossible dream until he was at least 25, once he was done with school and established in some sort of career. It wasn't necessary in the city, and it certainly wasn't practical.

All the time he'd spent at the Compound the garage had been filled with a fleet of impractical cars, flashy foreign imports that Tony had promised they could work on together once they'd solved the problem at hand. They were all gone now, save for the car Tony had presumably brought to the party, and a gleaming black Audi convertible with a comically large red bow on the hood.

"Oh my God." There was absolutely nothing subtle about the car aside from its color, and there was no way he could park it within a ten mile radius of his neighborhood, but Peter didn't care. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and even if it stayed at the Compound and he just came to visit it every once in a while he'd be content.

"Holy shit," Ned exclaimed, feigning a swoon that nearly matched the way Peter felt. "That's not a car. That's an Audi R8 Spyder. Ha. Spyder. I get it."

"I don't get it." Peter didn't know what this car was worth, exactly, but it was far too much for a pun and an inside joke. But he couldn't deny the thrill as he ran his hand across the door.

This was too much. He would have been happy with a secondhand Chevy. There was no way he could actually accept this.

No way May would let him.

But he could sit it in, just once.

Peter opened the door and slid inside before he could lose his nerve.

"Hello Peter," said a familiar, cheerful voice.

"Karen, what are you doing here?" he asked, overwhelmed by the blast of new car smell and all the leather in the interior.

"Mr. Stark installed me for your comfort and assistance. I can provide advanced navigation and parking location as well as relay messages for you. Would you like me to demonstrate stealth mode?"

"Yeah."

For a few seconds Peter's vision seemed to blur, the car going fuzzy around him. When it cleared everything around him seemed to have faded, it's grandeur dimmed in a way Peter couldn't precisely explain, as if it had aged and worn. The seats looked like cloth now, but they still felt like leather.

"Dude, you've got to see this," Ned called from outside the car, where he was still examining it. Peter opened the door and stumbled out.

Somehow he'd left a different car than he entered. His car was now a black Sedan of indeterminate make, with a few dings and scratches on the bumpers, badly in need of a polish. This was the type of car one could park on a Queens street without getting jumped, but when Peter reached out it still felt the same.

He walked all the way around the car, but it had changed from every angle. "Wow," he said as he sat back inside, and this time Ned joined him. Peter waited for Karen to acknowledge his presence and provide further explanation, but she remained silent.

"Karen, you still there?" he asked, hoping he hadn't broken her. He could almost believe the first car had been some hallucination, except it still smelled the same.

"Affirmative, Peter. My programming dictates that in stealth mode I remain quiet unless directly addressed in case you have guests who are unaware of my presence."

"So smart," Ned said. "Can you imagine? You can drive a Spyder to school and no one will even know."

"Karen, deactivate stealth mode." Peter couldn't deny how pleased he was when the original interior returned. If he had seen the second car first he would have been absolutely content, and it still would have been too much. But after witnessing the Spyder in all its glory it was impossible to pretend that there wasn't a part of him – a large part – that preferred that despite its unnecessary extravagance. The truth of that left him with an odd, uncomfortable feeling. The car probably cost more than May made in several _years._

"I can't keep this."

"Dude, Mr. Stark can't exactly take it back. He installed your own personal AI. And some crazy cloaking technology that I don't even understand. What is it, like a hologram?"

"It's probably nanobots." He hadn't worked it out yet, but that was how the suits operated so it seemed a pretty safe bet.

"Peter, I'm your friend and I love you, but don't be an idiot. Iron Man personally modified this car that his super responsible fiancé bought for you. They obviously want you to have it. And they went to a crazy amount of trouble so you can actually get away with driving it."

"But it's so expensive."

"Didn't you tell me that your Spiderman suit cost more than a million dollars? You took that, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but that's different," _because he hadn't thought of that_. "I use the suit to help people. This is just _frivolous_."

"It's a gift. Accept it. Love it. If you can't live with the guilt give it to me."

"Mr. Stark wanted me to inform you that he worked very hard on the modifications, and will be very disappointed if you don't make use of them."

"Low blow, Karen." But Peter could feel his resolve weakening. He hadn't wanted a thing so badly since the limited edition Avengers Tower Lego set, which May and Ben had never been able to afford.

"Dude, can you start it up? This has got to have some engine."

"I don't know how to drive!" Peter hissed, remembering the state of Flash's car by the end of homecoming. He couldn't accept this car and then destroy it. He'd never be able to look Tony in the face.

"You don't have to go anywhere. Just turn it on."

There was no key to put in the ignition, just a button to push. The engine roared to life, vibrating through the entire car and setting Peter's body on edge with breathless anticipation. He could feel it in his chest, urging his heartbeat faster with its perfect mechanical timbre.

"If you don't keep this car we cannot be friends anymore."

But Ned didn't need to worry. There was no way he could give it back. Some reckless part of Peter wanted to shift into gear and leave the garage, inexperience be damned, because surely Karen would help him and if this was what it was like just sitting in park he needed to know what it would be like to actually cruise. "This is so cool."

Before Peter could decide whether to go or stay the car shook, and Peter heard what sounded like the sputtering of an engine with more power and less finesse. "Karen, that wasn't me, was it?"

"Negative, Peter. A spaceship has just landed on the airstrip."

"Are we under attack?" Peter wrapped his hand around his left wrist but he didn't have his web shooters or his Avengers watch.

"Negative. This craft is extraterrestrial in origin, but is broadcasting the appropriate landing codes to be given clearance."

"You mean there's going to be aliens at this party?"

"Maybe it's Thor," Peter mused, but he thought he'd seen the Asgardian there already. "Let's go check it out!" He turned off the car, regretting the silence that followed, but he knew he'd be back. "See ya later Karen."

Peter recognized the smoking ship parked haphazardly on the landing pad, but if he'd known it was so creaky he would have thought twice about letting it carry him halfway across the galaxy.

The hatch door opened with a clash and the one who went by Starlord swaggered out. Peter tensed, remembering how the man had held a gun to his head the first time they met, but this time his mask was absent and he didn't seem to be armed. His eyes swept over his surroundings as his scowl deepened. "So this is Earth then? Lame. I thought it would be shinier."

Drax was not far behind, and he looked bigger than Peter remembered. "Actually besides Xander and Ego this is one of the shiniest planets we've been to. Most of the places we visit are quite grungy."

It was the creepy one with the antennae who noticed they were being watched. "We are not alone. And while the large one is surprised by our appearance the skinny one thinks we are familiar, somehow."

"His dad's throwing the party," Rocket said, emerging from the ship side by side with a walking tree, which somehow managed a glazed, bored expression that Peter associated with particularly tedious classes. "This place may not look like much, but he won't skimp on the alcohol, so we're in for a good time."

Finally Nebula emerged with an unknown woman following a few paces behind like a green shadow. She stalked towards Peter with obvious purpose, and all the Guardians scattered like bowling pins.

"Child. Where is Stark?" There was no patience or gratitude in the woman's brisk tone. While Peter knew there was a feeling person somewhere beneath all the gears, she always did her best not to let that show.

Peter's arms crossed instinctively. "What do you want with him?"

The corner of Nebula's mouth turned up in a wry smile. "I mean your father no harm. I owe him a debt."

Peter knew Nebula was no threat. She'd proven herself again and again. But the need to protect Tony still lingered, fierce and relentless though completely unnecessary. "He's in there." Peter pointed to the tent.

Peter followed at a distance, curious to know what had drawn Nebula here. He suspected that F.R.I.D.A.Y. had announced the Guardian's arrival, because Tony was waiting for them.

"Ah, Robo Smurf. I didn't think you'd come. Didn't peg you much for the party type."

Nebula stalked forward until she was only a foot or two from Tony. Though he was big on personal space he didn't step back. "Three days ago I woke up on the moron's ship. I should have returned to my father's dungeon with my gears torn apart."

"You were where?" The strange woman strode forward, green and horrified, and settled her hand on Nebula's shoulder. Though Nebula didn't turn, she allowed it.

Tony shrugged, as if he witnessed alien soap operas every day. "I deleted Grimace from existence along with all his goons. His ship's empty now. It would have been inefficient for you to have to break out and make your way to your sister's so I just skipped all that."

"Bullshit."

Peter watched as something in Tony's expression shifted, his casual indifference retracting like his armor. "Consider it repayment for getting Pete and I back home on time."

"It is I who should repay you for killing my father. Although I wanted that pleasure for myself, at least I know his end was suitably bloody."

Tony shifted, and when his eyes found Peter's they were filled with something that seemed like shame. Peter pushed the memory away, thought instead of his appearance outside the school, the relief when he embraced him. "Well. That monster had been haunting me for a long time. And it turns out I really don't like bastards who hurt their kids. At least we can finally answer the age old question, why is Gamora?"

"Good Lord." There was something familiar in the inflection, but Peter did not recognize the voice. It took him a few moments to recognize the man it belonged to, especially since he seemed to get the memo about the fancy party and was wearing dress pants and a tailored dark purple shirt rather than a cape and a tunic.

Of course Nebula didn't understand why this was funny. Peter wasn't sure she had enough living bits to understand humor at all. But from the way she let her sister stand close, brimming with silent questions, Peter figured she had enough to understand love, as much as she might pretend not to.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Gamora demanded.

"You had to be there," Tony answered dismissively. "But it's nice to finally meet you. Your fellow's an idiot, but I suppose you already know that."

"Hey! Are you talking about me? That's uncalled for. We don't even know each other. What if I told you your house was stupid? It doesn't even have any rooms."

"You should have left me on my father's ship," Nebula said with a groan.

Tony chuckled. "Eat. Drink. Relax. The music will be starting soon and I think that knucklehead might like it. Afterwards I understand if you want to get the hell out of here and never look back. But if you ever need allies – or friends – you know where to find us."

Nebula blinked twice, slowly, and Peter waited for a response that never came. With a curt nod she spun on her heels and stalked away.

"Delightful," Doctor Strange said dryly, stepping forward into the space she had left, looking every bit like a man who belonged at one of Tony Stark's cocktail parties.

"Harry," Tony said with a nod of his head.

"My name is Stephen."

There was something so effortless about Tony's grin that Peter felt an echoing joy well up inside himself. So often his father's jokes were a mask or a suit of armor. Right now he just seemed pleased with himself, and that ease was a relief to a stress Peter hadn't even been aware he was carrying. "Potter. Come on now. Too easy?"

Peter found himself coming forward, the need to stand beside Tony almost instinctive now. He also wanted to see the wizard up close, and know his rescue had not been in vain after all.

He was more intimidating, somehow, with all the flamboyance stripped away. "Doctor Strange," Peter said solemnly.

The man nodded in acknowledgement. "Spiderman." His smile, though controlled, seemed genuine.

It took Peter a beat to comprehend the wry humor in his tone. "Wait, how do you know that? No one who disappeared remembers what happened."

"I've been the guardian of the Time Stone for many years. It seems I am immune to its effects."

"You have no idea, do you?" Tony interjected.

"None. But didn't that sound convincing?"

It sounded good to Peter, but Tony didn't seem impressed. "I have a better theory. When I wielded the Time Stone I subconsciously chose who I wanted to remember the time I was erasing. I included you so you could tell me why."

Every part of Peter was hyperaware, because he'd wondered that too, as much as he was endlessly grateful for it. Tony didn't like to talk about what happened on Titan, but Peter knew, because he heard whispers too well and they all tried so often to cobble together some sense out of the events that doomed half the world.

"Why I traded your life for half the galaxy, you mean?"

"Yes." There was no joke, no deflection. Tony was uncharacteristically serious, and Peter couldn't help but picture him just moments from bleeding out. Tony's heart had slowed significantly, but Peter's was racing, blood beating too loudly in his ears until Tony reached out and squeezed his arm and then everything calmed.

"Isn't it obvious? This is the future I saw. Right down to this party, which you didn't invite me to, by the way."

"But why did this future need me?"

"Because you were the catalyst who brought the Avengers back together. It was only as a team that you were strong enough to defeat Thanos."

Peter wanted to say something clever, to make a joke about Tony's diplomacy skills so it wouldn't be awkward even though Peter knew he had struggled to get past all the ways Germany had broken them. Peter was proud of the way Tony had repaired the damage, but he didn't think Tony would want Doctor Strange to overhear that. His train of thought was derailed when he sensed someone watching him and found the wizard staring at him in his intense, mystic way.

Tony's grip on his arm tightened. "You saw that I needed to lose Peter to be motivated."

"Quite the opposite. There were many timelines where the boy died, in battle or in ash. They all ended in utter defeat. Rarely did you leave Titan alive, and never as more than an alcoholic shell. You never channeled your rage effectively, and you pushed away every remaining ally. It was protecting your ward—"

"Son," Tony and Peter both corrected. They shared a look that broke the tension, and Peter found that he could breathe again, the awful picture the wizard had painted losing its power.

"It was protecting your _son_ that kept you from giving up." The wizard's tone and emphasis implied he'd understood the distinction all along, and maybe he had. "You were determined to engineer a better future for him to grow up in, and here we are."

"Well." It was rare for Tony to be speechless, but he tugged Peter into his side, ruffled his hair, and said nothing more.

"So basically you're saying I'm the reason Thanos lost," Peter quipped, tone clearly teasing even as he reeled at the implication that he, insignificant Peter Parker, could have such an impact. It was hard enough to believe that Tony's fate depended so heavily on his, when back on Titan they'd barely known each another. But the entire world …

Tony chuckled, just as Peter had intended. "Sure, champ. Though maybe we keep that among ourselves so the others don't feel bad." He turned back to Strange. "Turns out wizards are quite helpful. I may suggest that the Avengers recruit one."

"I'm flattered, but I have no interest in joining your little band."

"I was talking about Wong." Peter snorted. The man in question was currently arguing animatedly with Starlord by the buffet table in an outfit that was perfect for a gathering of superheroes but not for a cocktail party.

"Charming. May our paths not cross again anytime soon, Stark."

"Likewise, Harry."

The moment Doctor Strange turned away Peter shifted, throwing his arms around Tony and holding tight.

"I don't think you're trying to strangle me kid, but I can't breathe."

Peter laughed, pulling away and bounding over to Miss Potts. He was more careful about his super strength this time, and her heals and her dress made him approach the situation a bit more gingerly. "Thank you," he whispered into her shoulder. "Thank you thank you a million times."

"Hey, how come she gets a thanks for saving the world hug?" Tony grumbled. Peter laughed at his petulance and found that he couldn't stop.

"The hugs were not for saving the world on my behalf," he corrected, because that was something he still couldn't fully comprehend and would have to repay with more than a hug, somehow. "They were for giving me the most insane car I have ever seen."

"You like it then?" Pepper asked.

"Are you kidding? How could I not like it? It's too much, but it's amazing!" He turned towards Tony, who was watching him with a contented smile. "When did you have time to do all those upgrades? We've only been back for two days."

"Sleep's overrated. And I'd already worked out most of what I wanted to do. Had Fri backdate some schematics along with our favorite government vlogs."

"I can never repay you for this."

"It was a gift, Peter," Miss Potts said firmly. "Well deserved and very joyfully given."

"What she said," Tony echoed. "Always good to listen to the Boss Lady. Also at her genius suggestion, I'm going to tell Happy he has to give you driving lessons. But after he sweats through a session or two I'll take over. You can keep the car at my place until you're able to drive on your own. All the training wheel protocols will come off as soon as you get your license." He turned to Ned, who was watched the exchange with wide eyes and a slack jaw, like he had for most of the evening. "No hacking the car, young man!"

"Got it, Mr. Stark. I am sorry about the suit, Mr. Stark."

"Water under the bridge. But I did make the Iron Spider suit unhackable, so there's no getting the training wheels and the baby monitor off that one."

"Is that a challenge?"

"It most certainly is not!"

But Peter and Ned shared a look, and while Peter now trusted any safeguards Tony had built in he was still curious to see if his friend could crack them. As much as Tony wanted to be the smartest person Peter knew, he knew some pretty brilliant people.

"Whatever you're thinking, just stop. You two should scram. Eat. Mingle. Introduce Ned around. We're still waiting on a few people and then the band will get started."

* * *

Time passed quickly. Ned was surprisingly cool through most of the introductions. There were plenty of people for Peter to meet at well. Steve proudly showed off the rest of his team, properly smiling for the first time since Peter had met him in the waiting room in Wakanda. "Are you going to shave off your sadness beard now?" Tony cracked as he drifted by with a glass full of what Peter suspected was tonic without the gin.

Steve rubbed it, pensively, looking absolutely ridiculous. "I dunno. I kind of like it."

Wanda giggled from her place on Vision's arm.

The android seemed to take the matter a lot more seriously. "Research shows that a beard can make a man look ten years older. But you still look remarkably young for your age, considering you were born in 1918."

"Dude, we HAVE to throw him a 100th birthday party this year!" Ned gushed. "Who's in?"

"Yeah, I'll celebrate that this man is old," Falcon agreed. "As long as Stark buys the food."

Thor practically bounced around the party like an untrained puppy, with a bad ass woman and his sulking brother by his side. He was wearing an eyepatch, although Peter saw Rocket toss him a glass eye which he pocketed with a fleeting look of disgust.

"This is Stark's son, Peter," Thor boomed, greeting him with a manly slap to his shoulder which sent Peter stumbling forward a step even with his super strength and firsthand knowledge of what was coming. "This is my brother, Loki, resurrected and restored, and Brunnhilde, a mighty Valkyrie."

Peter was pretty sure Loki had been a villain during the Battle of New York, but he'd heard enough of Thor's loud, rambling stories about his brother to understand that it was complicated. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Loki. This is my friend Ned."

Loki raised a single sculpted eyebrow. "I did not know that Stark had progeny."

There was something unsettling about the way an actual god was looking at him both critically and with disinterest. "Uhh. He'd not my actual dad, by blood. It's sort of complicated."

"Stark adopted him into his family much like father adopted you!"

"He stole the boy from a hostile world where he was left to die? Were his parents a great enemy?"

Peter choked as Ned cackled uncontrollably. "Oh my God, no! It wasn't _anything_ like that."

"That should totally be your origin story though," Ned suggested. "That would be so badass."

They had finally made it to the buffet table when Peter heard a familiar pattern of deliberate footsteps and rustling beads. "No way!" He turned and there she was, her hair more elaborate than normal, her dress less so.

But it was the grin splitting her face – and the tall man a few steps behind her – which was truly remarkable. Peter felt it anew all over again – what had been lost and what had been regained – and how miraculous it had been to turn back death. Joy overrode all rational thought, and he swept Shuri into a hug and spun her around like she weighed nothing.

"Put me down, peasant," she shrieked, but her protests soon dissolved into laughter, wild and unpredictable like her. It wasn't PC or prudent, but he didn't care, because here was the future some stilted part of himself had never been able to believe in.

"We did it!" he breathed, and when he finally set her down she clutched onto his arm to steady herself.

"Of course we did, you silly boy."

"You must be Peter Parker." As Shuri's brother stepped forward it was impossible to miss the fondness in his eye or the authority in his tone. Peter stepped back and stood up a little straighter. "Your Majesty," he acknowledged, wavering too long on whether he should bow so he ended up with an awkward head nod.

King T'Challa smiled, and Peter could sense something of Shuri about him – effortless authority and an underlying warmth. "There is no need for that among friends. My sister tells me you were a very good friend to her during the time that I was gone, and that is a debt I can never repay."

"Oh it was nothing, really. Your sister's brilliant, and she saved Mr. Stark's life—"

"And yours, with the remote suit—" Shuri chimed in.

Peter shook his head with fond exasperation. "—And mine."

"These two are trouble, let me tell you." Tony glided into the conversation, Pepper on his arm, and nodded at the king. "And now that all the doom and gloom is over with the levels of brilliant teenage nerding out we're going to be subjected to is going to be off the charts. Steel yourself."

"Tony."

"T'challa. Glad you could make it. Though you are late."

T'challa was utterly nonplussed, exuding a level of coolness that Peter could never hope to achieve. "Some of us have countries to run."

"After I told him what happened he and Nakia ran off for a day and came back _engaged_. Guess her cold feet were warmed by the months spent without him. Then yesterday we binged the entirety of _Westworld."_

"Sister!" His veneer cracked, just a little, and Peter was glad to see that he wasn't the only one Shuri was able to unsettle.

"You shouldn't fib, brother. Though I suppose it is true that today you did have some matters of state to attend to before we left Wakanda."

"You came all this way just for a party?" Peter asked, and T'Challa shot him a grateful glance for steering the conversation in another direction.

"Officially. I personally came to say I told you so."

While Peter was certain she was addressing him, she looked very deliberately at Tony, leaving Peter utterly baffled. "You have to be more specific. You've told me a lot of things."

T'Challa laughed, but Tony looked surprisingly serious before disappearing behind one of the tables and returning with a thin red box topped with a bow very similar to the one that had been left on his car.

"Now that everyone's here we might as well really get this party started. This is for you."

Peter hesitated before taking the gift that was offered him. "You didn't have to. You already got me a car."

"Pepper got you a car. This is different. Open it."

There was something in Tony's voice that made Peter apprehensive. He could feel everyone watching him, and he didn't like how they knew something that he didn't.

But this was his _dad_ , who he knew wanted only the best for him.

The lid of the box came off, bow and all. Inside, on a bed of red tissue paper, was a stack of documents. Peter skimmed the top one, curious but almost put off by the officious looking letterhead and ostentatious legalese. _I, Tony Stark, do hereby designate Peter Parker as the legal heir to my personal fortunes and my ownership shares in Stark Industries_.

Peter dropped the lid but the grass muffled the sound. He could hear his own breath hitch and his heart pound in his chest, but when he looked up to find Tony the man was making his way onto the stage.

Peter tried to read on but he couldn't make it past that impossible first page. Tony was right – this was different than the car. Because the Spyder was frivolous and inconsequential in the scope of Tony's entire fortune, but this _inheritance_ was so much more than just money – though it was far more money than Peter could even _fathom_. But this was also responsibility – a responsibility that represented trust and value and love. Tony had said those words before – had even told him, once, that he was going to do this – but it hadn't seemed real when he hadn't been sure that the world would ever get back to the way it was supposed to be. The fact that he had kept him promise – that he felt strongly enough to make it in the first place – it nearly sent Peter to his knees.

All he'd wanted since the day Tony Stark showed up in his apartment was to make him proud.

Somehow, someway, he had managed that.

He felt a steadying hand on his arm and found Miss Potts standing very close, watching him with a soft smile. "I've watched Tony make a lot of decisions through the years. Rarely have I been so convinced that he's made the right one."

Her confidence buoyed him, because Miss Potts was practicality and execution, and if she thought it was a good idea, then surely it must be so.

Tony tapped on one of the three mics set up on stage. "Well this is old school." The audience chuckled. Peter couldn't help but think it was unnecessary, because there were only maybe 40 people there, tops, but then Tony looked right at him and smiled and he simmered down.

"Before the band starts I'd like to say a few words. Yes I'll limit it to a few. It's been a long time since I've thrown a good party. Glad to see I've still got it."

He was effortless in the spotlight. While Peter had gotten the sense that Tony didn't like it there was no denying how he shined. "My reasons to bring you all here today were threefold. The first is obvious – to celebrate the most massive victory the Avengers have ever – and hopefully will ever – achieve. To the roughly half of you that helped, we couldn't have done it without each and every one of you. To the other half – maybe pitch in a little next time."

Pepper wasn't the only one who gasped, but her disapproval was easy to separate since she was standing so close to him. "What, too soon?" Tony did sober after that, into the man who'd led briefings and ran through the settings on his suit without a single joke. "In all seriousness – we weren't a team when Thanos came and he kicked our ass. But every one of you that remained put our differences aside for the greater good. The Avengers are stronger – and more numerous – than ever, and you all have my endless gratitude for that. Which might make my second reason for calling you here a bit surprising. Effective immediately, I'm retiring Iron Man."

If Peter had tried he could have pinpointed individual reactions – who gasped, who whispered to the person standing next to them, who accepted the news in silence. But he was too focused on Tony. On the way his heart sped up just slightly, and his hand clenched around the microphone, and he looked, just for a second, at Pepper, before deliberately not looking directly at anyone at all.

"I know, I know, I've said that before. But I'm really going to try and make it stick this time. My non-enhanced body is getting a little old for this. And I have promises to keep. I'll still be available for a little pro bono consulting, if necessary, but I'd appreciate it if you kept the sky from falling. Don't worry, you can stay at the Compound. I'll even waive the rent.

"Once upon a time one of you told Fury I was unsuitable to join the Avengers. The rest of you probably thought it. And that was true, in the beginning. And off and on in the middle too, to be honest. I tore us apart when I should have kept us together. But I think we got it right, this last time round. And even though I was never much of a team player, you all taught me not just what it was to be a better hero, but a better person, and I'll carry that lesson with me whatever the future holds."

"Here, here," someone shouted, and it sounded like Steve, but Peter was still watching Tony, baring his soul in a way Peter knew made him extremely uncomfortable, and Peter didn't think he'd ever been more proud.

"If you thought I was done with the sappy stuff, you were mistaken, because my final reason for gathering you all here is, selfishly, my favorite. And that's to announce – among friends – that as of this morning Peter is now my legal successor as CEO and majority owner of Stark Industries."

Peter wasn't expecting the cheer that went through the crowd, or the way the attention shifted in his direction. "I know, some kid right? Peter and I may not share DNA – despite what some of you may think – but he's everything that I could ever ask for in a son. My old man used to talk about legacy, and I thought it was a publicity stunt. Maybe it was. But I finally understand. Because I've tried to make Stark Industries a company that's good for humanity. But there are mistakes I've made that I'll never be able to undo. There is red in my ledger, as a friend once said. But when I look at Peter I see the potential for a world that doesn't need a man flying around in a suit of guns. The kid was ready to change the world in a hoodie and a pair of googles. All he's ever needed was the right resources. I'm proud that I can give him that. So, if you'd all join me in a toast. To Peter."

Somehow there was a champagne glass in his hand, but Peter wasn't sure how it had gotten there.

"Dude, how did you not tell me Mister Stark was giving you Stark Industries? When are you taking over? Are you going to finish high school?"

He hadn't meant to keep it from Ned, he'd just honestly kind of forgotten, because when Tony had brought it up that potential future had seemed so distant, and he'd never expected anything like this honestly, and how was this actually his life?

"Speech!" someone shouted, and then there was suddenly a chorus echoing the sentiment which sounded like Clint and Scott, who were bound to be trouble together now that neither of them was depressed.

Peter looked toward Tony, feeling like he was caught in a floodlight on a mission that was supposed to be stealthy, but his dad just smiled and tilted the microphone in his direction.

"You don't have to go up there," Miss Potts said. "But you'll have to get used to making speeches someday. Might not be a bad idea to practice among friends."

Knowing it was his choice made it a little easier. As did the way May flashed him two thumbs up from across the tent.

He bounded up to the stage, hoping the energy might give him courage. Tony tossed him the mic and he caught it smoothly. From up here the tent seemed a little empty, and while some of the faces were a tad unfamiliar they were all smiling.

Suddenly the nerves seemed silly. He had helped save the world, after all.

"So I think Tony actually threw this party for me," he said. "He was embarrassed when I called our first night at the Compound a party. I will admit, I never had my own ice sculpture back in Queens." It seemed to work, starting with humor. By the time everyone was chuckling he knew what to say.

"None of you came to listen to some kid ramble on, so I'll keep this short. Mostly I just want to say thank you. To all the Avengers – and the honorary Avengers – who spent the past three months here with me – thanks for being gracious and welcoming to me and my aunt, even though we were all having a pretty rough time. I know I was out of my league, but none of you ever made me feel that way. It meant a lot. And to those who weren't here – I don't get to say this often, but Mister Stark is wrong. Because you did help. You were the reason we kept fighting. That we couldn't give up and adapt to the status quo. Without your loss we wouldn't have kept going. So thanks, for meaning that much to us."

He caught Ned's eye in the crowd and hoped he'd really been listening. He'd glossed over Ned's loss when he'd been recounting those missing months, too glad to have him back to want to remember how much it had hurt when he'd been gone. They didn't do mushy – they did Star Wars marathons and Pokemon strategizing – but that didn't mean Peter hadn't felt all those mushy things he was too uncomfortable to say. He wanted Ned to know he was important. He'd learned that from witnessing his dad's insecurities.

"And of course the biggest thanks of all is to Mister Stark – Tony." _Dad_ almost slipped out but he held it back. "He told me he was going to do this and I was still surprised."

Tony's gaze could have melted iron, it was so warm and fond and brimming with emotion that Peter felt warmth well up behind his own eyes, unhelpfully. Peter had to look away, unwilling to do something so mortifying as cry during his first big speech, especially when it wasn't nerves affecting him now.

"My Uncle Ben always said that with great power comes great responsibility." He tried looking at Aunt May next, but he couldn't do that either, not when she wiped a tear from her eye.

His gaze settled on Pepper, fond and proud but also calm and steady. It was no wonder she was Tony's rock. "That's a motto I've tried to live by. I want to thank Mister Stark for trusting me to take over what he's built. I confess that I have no idea how to run a company, but I do understand how important it is, and I'll do my best to learn and make him proud."

Then he was tossing the mic back amongst warm applause, and Tony said something that redirected the attention away from Peter.

"Sorry you got put on the spot," Tony said once they'd left the stage. "I should have realized that could happen. I'm used to being surrounded by people who want to be the center of attention."

He was touched Tony had noticed his discomfort, but Pepper was right – he would have to get used to it. "It's all right. Did I do okay?"

"You did great, champ." He shifted his weight and blew out a labored breath. "This isn't conditional. I just want you to know that. I expect great things from you – but that isn't meant to be a burden. You'll make mistakes, do things I don't agree with. That won't make me love you any less. I'm already proud, and I always will be."

Peter could guess where the need for that little clarification came from, and Peter thanked the stars, for the dozenth time, that Tony was far less like his father than he feared. "Love you too. And I'm proud to be your son."

"All right. Enough mushy stuff. This is supposed to be a party," Tony said, but his eyes were bright and he was grinning. "Sometime soon we'll have to figure out a timeline for announcing your appointment. Pepper has some thoughts. Neither of us is looking to step down anytime soon but we want to make sure you're prepared when we do. Pepper's offered to give you CEO lessons. And I thought an actual internship at Stark Industries would be wise. Eventually you can test out the different departments. Obviously you could do great work in R&D. But to start I just established a new branch of the Stark Industries Foundation focused on hands on projects to turn communities around. I was thinking Queens would be a good place to start – and you could run it."

There was something about that which was better than new cars and million dollar suits, but also harder to comprehend. "Wow. Mr. Stark. Tony. _Dad_. That's. Really?"

"Did I break you, kid? Yes, really."

It was only once the idea and its implications made it's way across his brain once or twice that realization struck. "Is this an excuse to keep me out of the suit?"

It came out a bit more accusatory than he meant it to, but Tony didn't shy away. "The thought may have crossed my mind, honestly. But it's not what you think. I know you love being Spiderman, and I've seen firsthand that you're capable of far more than stopping muggings and saving cats from trees. But there are going to be times when you're not right around the corner to stop a holdup, and darker stuff that I really hope you aren't in the middle of. There are things that can be done to make the neighborhood a little friendlier on its own, and I think you can help find them. There will still be opportunities for Spidey, but there's ways that Peter Parker can help too."

Peter was in awe of the way Tony got him – how he really must have listened, that first afternoon in his bedroom, and every night in the Compound when all he could do was ramble of cry about some snippet of news he'd managed to get hold of – about devastation and misery and how _nobody did anything_. All Peter wanted to do, at the end of the day, was help. And yes, Spiderman was SO COOL, and yes, he loved swinging around his city and talking to old ladies and seeing the faces of the people he's helped, but Tony was right. There were ways he might be able to help more people all at once. Ways to decrease crime and increase resources and his mind was already spinning with ideas and he couldn't wait to work them out. Because Queens could be just the pilot; with Stark Industries anything that worked could spread EVERYWHERE. "This might be the nicest thing you've ever done for me."

"Wow. That bar was already pretty high. Did you see the car? And your suit?"

"This tops them all. I can never repay you for this."

"There's a hell of a lot I can't repay you for, Pete. Let's just say we're even and call it square, okay?"

He couldn't fathom how it could possibly be even. He knew that Tony appreciated his admiration and affection, but it came so easy, almost always. Even after he took the suit away and Peter had to face the Vulture alone, the next time he'd seen Tony the anger had faded. But that's all Peter had to offer, while Tony had resources and connections. He could choose anyone in the world to mentor, or he could choose no one at all. And he'd chosen Peter.

But there was no part of him that wanted to protest. He might not understand it, but he believed it. He'd helped Tony somehow, in some fundamental way, and he'd keep doing it each and every day, because the man deserved to escape from the demons that plagued him.

"Okay. Dad."

"Good. Now why don't you go say hello to your aunt because she's staring daggers at me for monopolizing you." Tony stepped close enough to ruffle Peter's hair, then pulled him into a quick half hug before pushing him in the direction of his aunt.

May was standing next to the Bartons, but she excused herself as soon as Peter started approaching. Her hair was sleek and curled, and she was wearing a shimmering emerald dress Peter had definitely never seen before.

"Hey May."

"Oh sweetheart." She wrapped him in a bear hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks." May's approval had always been easy to gain, but it flooded him with warmth. He could barely remember a time when she hadn't meant home.

"You look gorgeous," he said when she finally released him. "How come me and Ned were the only ones who weren't told this was a fancy party?"

"Tony bought me this dress. He was trying to butter me up, I think." She smoothed her hands down her sides unconsciously, and Peter noticed the glint of matching gemstones around her wrist. "I must admit it kind of worked. I feel fabulous."

"You look fabulous," he agreed.

"Your dad and I had a long talk, about the inheritance and co-parenting and whatever comes next."

She must have noticed the way his mouth dropped open because she stopped, her eyes narrowing. "What? Do I have something on my face? I put on non-running mascara for this very reason."

"You called him—"

"Your dad?" she finished when Peter couldn't. "That's not a big secret, is it? Because I've heard seven different people draw that connection tonight, and everyone did it constantly back when we lived here. Plus you call him that all the time."

"Yes but—"

"Not in front of me. To spare my feelings." He didn't know how May had figured out so easily something that he'd been struggling with for months. It was one of her special talents, and sometime it came in handier than web slinging.

"Well yeah."

"How did I end up with such a sweet kid?"

Peter blushed, not sure how to answer that. It wasn't exactly how he'd most want to be characterized, especially in a tent full of Avengers.

"I know I haven't always been Tony's biggest fan. But that man has convinced me time and again that he would do anything for you, and it's clear you adore him right back. You never have to hide that on my account."

"I love you too though. You know that right?"

"Of course I do. They're not mutually exclusive. Kids are supposed to have two parents."

She reached out and twined their fingers together. They'd just started getting used to being just the two of them against the world when Tony came into their lives. It hadn't always been that way.

"When we lost Ben I worried about a lot of things. One of my biggest concerns was you growing up without a man around. A boy needs a father. Maybe that's not PC to say in 2018 – but he deserves one, anyway. I never thought in a million years that Tony Stark would be the one to step up to the plate. But he's doing a good job."

"I still miss Ben. Sometimes I would imagine how he'd react if he was in the Compound with us."

"I used to think about that all the time! Would have been nice not to be the only normal person."

"Miss Potts is normal."

"She might not have super powers, but she's hardly normal."

It was hard to argue with that. Peter allowed himself a few more moments in the fantasy – Ben and Clint arguing over whose pancakes were better, Ben whispering to May that he couldn't believe he'd gotten into a debate with a raccoon. But it faded quickly, as it always did. Ben's image in his mind was getting a little blurry around the edges. It was time to pull the photos back up on his phone.

"One day I won't be normal either. Are you okay with that?"

"You cruised right past normal the day you got the spider bite, I think. But I know what you mean." She fingered the emeralds clasped around her wrist. "This excessive wealth, and the fact it'll all be yours someday – it'll take some getting used to. But I've always wanted to be able to give you more than I could. What right have I to be jealous that someone else can?"

"Did Tony show you the car?"

"The car that no one in their right mind she give to a sixteen year old? Oh yes."

"I can keep it, right? I mean, I know it's a lot—"

"Lucky I already knew Tony wasn't in his right mind. IF you drive at a safe and respectful speed and IF you always keep it in sci fi stealth mode when you drive it anywhere near home or school and IF you take me on at least three joy rides once you get your license, then yes you can keep it."

"Thanks May!"

"As if I could keep that car away from you," she said with a chuckle. "Ben would come back and haunt me from the grave for sure. He would have loved to drive that car."

Peter squeezed May's hand and then pulled her into another hug. A breath shuddered through her, and then a second, but when she pulled away her eyes were dry.

"There's just one thing that I ask."

"Anything."

"Don't let it all go to your head, okay? The money and the company and the cars? I want you to remember that humble kid you are now, who knows the value of every dollar. Don't lose yourself."

"I'll try. You have permission to smack me if I seem to be failing."

"Remember you said that!"

"Guys, Adam Lambert is here!" Ned bounced up, his hat askew. "I was talking to Scott, and the band was getting ready, and I was curious so I looked up and there was Adam Lambert!"

"It's not Adam Lambert!" Tony corrected, joining them as if he'd been summoned by Ned's incorrect conclusion. "I mean, it is. But it's Queen." Tony said it like the name carried some great gravitas, and May laughed as if she understood, but Peter was lost.

"Oh come on. Please tell me you know who Queen is. You're not a baby."

"They're a band. That have some songs… I think I've heard."

"Unbelievable, kid. You're in for a treat."

"You invited Queen to a private Avengers party?" Ned asked.

"Have you seen the seventeen custom ice sculptures?"

"This is so badass. Have I told you how utterly thrilled I am to be a part of this, Mister Stark, sir?"

"It's about to get more badass. We're going up on stage." He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it to Peter.

Inside the small box were a pair of earbuds. "It's gonna get loud in here," Tony explained. "Those should make it a little more comfortable."

"Thanks," Peter said, touched, but he wasn't sure what was going on. "Why are we going on stage?"

"Because they're opening with a special request. This is our song."

"Our song?" He put in the earbuds and followed. As the first few notes rang through the tent Peter heard Starlord say, "Hey, I know this song."

Turned out Peter did too, once Lambert got a few lines in.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Nope." Tony's grin was impossibly wide, and Peter loved seeing him this way, without a shadow of a care weighing him down.

By the time the chorus hit Tony had grabbed a microphone, his rich baritone surprisingly on key as he belted "We are the Champions" along with Adam Lambert. In a life that had become increasingly surreal it was still an odd moment, especially as others joined in. Starlord and Ant-Man rushed the stage. Aunt May flung an arm around his shoulder and belted, voice strong but a bit flat. Tony goaded him on from his other side, holding out the microphone, and the energy was infectious. Soon he was singing his heart out in discordant jubilation.

"I cannot believe this is happening," Peter said in between songs, because apparently Tony had paid Queen some insane amount of money and made them sign non-disclosure agreements so the Avengers could basically join them for karaoke.

"This is your life now kid. Hanging out with superheroes amid excessive displays of wealth. Any regrets?"

That barely scratched the surface of what it was, really, though in the moment that description was quite apt. He looked around himself, surrounded by friends and family who believed in what he could do outside the suit just as much as what he could do in it, and was overwhelmed by just how strongly he felt for all of them.

"Never."

* * *

 **And there we have it! So sorry that it took me so long but this chapter just kept growing.**

 **Thank you so much to each and every one of you who took the time to review, favorite, or follow my story. The encouragement means a lot, and I hope you got the same joy out of reading this as I did writing it.**

 **If you enjoyed the story and wanted to leave a final review, I'd appreciate it greatly.**


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